


A Calming Presence

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode: s07e18 Requiem, Episode: s07e19 Transition, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-29
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:12:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of theWest Wing Fanfiction Central, a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in theannouncement post.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

The coffin was heavy, the sun was too bright, and the twenty-one gun salute at the cemetery was jarring. And the monotone speaking at the funeral? More of a celebration, my ass. This day hasn’t been a celebration or anything close to what he would’ve wanted. It was too… proper. Even the President’s eulogy was restrained. I should’ve… I don’t know, helped Mallory plan it maybe. She shouldn’t have had to do it, her dad just died. If I’d helped, I maybe could’ve convinced her to get a pastor or something instead of a priest or whoever the freaky guy in the pointy hat was who felt the need to do part of the service in Latin so only the President would understand it. I’m busy, busier than I’ve ever been in my life, yes, but it was Leo. I should’ve made the time. 

And I obviously should’ve been paying more attention to Barry Goodwin, who somewhere along the way has wormed his way into my campaign and my candidate. He’s leading the transition? I need to lead the transition. I need to staff the White House and meet with each of the incoming congressmen and senators. I need to help the congressman decide what to come out of the legislative gate with, not Barry Goodwin, riding the coattails of my win six weeks after trying to get me fired. He’ll probably subtly mention that he should be chief of staff instead of me, and then I’ll be out of a job. 

I get to the White House late for the thing after arguing with the President-elect about the Speaker of the House. I need him to listen to me on this; he’s on the cusp of making a huge mistake. He and his new buddy want to push to get Fields named Speaker, but neither one has a grasp on the way people look at things the president does. I’ve been here, I’ve done this for years; I know how things look to the outside world. We made the mistakes, pissed off the wrong people, learned our boundaries the hard way. He needs to let me not let him make the same ones. Barry Goodwin might be huge in the democratic world, but hasn’t even for one day worked in the White House. He shouldn’t be advising the President-elect like this. And if he wants to, he should be going through me.

I walk around the reception looking for Donna with a half-smile on my face, pretending that I have time for this. It’s horrible, really, that this thing is for Leo and I can’t stop thinking that I need to be doing a hundred other things. I’ve got a thousand jobs to fill, including finding one for the woman I’m currently sleeping with, I’ve got to convince a man to be our Vice-President who turned us down five months ago for the same job, and I’ve got to find a Deputy Chief of Staff. Funny how my thoughts for that position go immediately to the woman I’m sleeping with. She’s not ready for it, I know, but it would be such a relief to have someone in that position that I trust with my life.

I don’t find Donna, but I do internally groan when I see Amy standing across the room staring at me with predatory eyes. She wants something, I have no doubt. It might be me now that I’m supposedly all-powerful, it might be Carol Gelsy, it might even be me so she can get Carol Gelsy, but I’d bet money Leo’s passing has little to do with why she’s here. Maybe I should re-introduce her to Barry Goodwin.

I agree to take her idea to the President-elect, mostly just so I can get away from her, and go back to the reception to look for Donna. Recently, she and I have been closer than ever while at the same time farther apart than ever and I’d be lying if I said I understood it. The pillar of strength she’s been recently simply blows me away. It feels like old times and although I knew I missed her when we were apart, until a few days ago I hadn’t grasped how much. But I have no idea what we’re doing, and I feel cheated, like I should be basking in something but don’t have time to figure out what it is I should be basking in. Between the transition, the mess Barry Goodwin’s making of it, the VP, the staffing, and Leo’s death, Donna has inadvertently become low on my list, and that’s not where I want her.

It feels a little easier to breathe when I see her. There was barely enough time for a hello this morning before the service, and other than that I haven’t seen her in two days. We managed three hours of sleep together, remaining well on our own sides of the bed, after the election results came in and the speeches were done, but I left Houston later that day with Ronna, Edie and Otto, to get the transition office up and running while Donna and Bram stayed to help the President-elect with post election press conferences and arrangements. And while I know that more sex with Donna with no accompanying discussion is not the smartest choice to make, to say I could use her calming presence with me once this horrible day ends would be an understatement. 

When I talk to her though, she’s already made prior arrangements for tonight. It seems strange to me that she didn’t want to stay with me, but I let her convince me that I’m the one who would find that weird, even though it was my idea in the first place and really doesn’t feel weird to me at all. Maybe it’s the sleeping over thing. We’re managing the sex amazingly well, but we’re still a little lost on what to do afterwards. 

But that’s just another thing I don’t have the time or energy to think about. I have to find the President-elect and get him to listen to Amy so that even though we’re going to go with Baker, we don’t piss off the women voters. And then I have to go to the residence for a more intimate gathering to remember Leo, which will hopefully be ‘more of a celebration’ than the formality of the church, the moroseness of the cemetery or the political undercurrent of the reception. 

********** 

I couldn’t sleep last night. Faces and names and positions raced through my mind all night long and I almost called Donna three separate times. The only thing that held me back was the fact that had she come over we would’ve had sex. And that would’ve been the third time we had sex, and the third time part of the reason for it was relaxation. 

Amy and I used to do that. One of us would have a bad day, and since we were incapable of talking things out without fighting, the other one of us would offer up our body as some sort of relaxation method. I didn’t complain about it then; it suited my purposes just fine. But that’s not what I want with Donna.

Since I couldn’t sleep, I got up early this morning and came into the office where I’ve, and I can’t even believe I’ve done this, made note cards. Each card has a position I need to fill at the top of it and a list of possible names for the job underneath. I’ve put Donna’s name on well over half of the cards.

I still have her name on the Deputy Chief of Staff card, even though I can’t offer her that position. She’s not ready enough or pushy enough for it, and I know that, but her name represents what I’m looking for in that position. Someone I know and love and trust whole heartedly. Toby’s name would be on it if I could put it there. CJ’s would be there if it wouldn’t be a step down for her. Will’s name was on it, but I crossed him out because I don’t trust him, and Lou’s name is on it, although I’d rather have her as Communications Director.

I’ve also got Donna’s name on the Press Secretary card, the Legislative Director card, the Deputy Communications Director card, the card for possible Congressional Liaisons, and in my mind only, the Senior Assistant to the Chief of Staff card. Old habits die hard, I guess.

The President-elect comes in around eight o’clock, which is just as well, because I’ve got forty index cards and haven’t gotten anywhere with them. I give him a few minutes to get situated before going into his office. “Morning,” he says as I walk in.

“Good morning, Sir,” I say, closing the door behind me.

He looks up at the closed door. “Am I about to get a lecture?”

I look behind me at the door and then back at him. “No.”

“Because I’m not taking Barry Goodwin off transition.”

My jaw tightens and there’s a pause. “I have a few names for you to look at for Secretary of Defense,” I say, choosing to ignore his last statement.

“Instead of Swayne, you mean.”

“In addition to, yes.”

He looks at me for a second and then moves on. “I have a name for you as well.”

“For Secretary of Defense?” I ask in a hopeful voice.

“For Legislative Director.”

“Alright…”

“Amy Gardner.”

My eyes must widen here because he almost laughs at me. “Sir…”

“She’s highly respected.”

I shake my head. “Her legislative agenda consists of women’s issues only. Children, minorities, men, especially men…”

“I talked to her about it yesterday,” he says, cutting me off. 

This can not be happening. “Sir, all due respect, but Amy has a one track mind when it comes to issues. We tried working with her once before, she’s not a team player. She should be working for a woman’s group. In fact she has worked for most of them.”

He nods. “I want you to talk to her. Make it clear what we’d be asking of her, find out some of her ideas. See if she’s ready.”

“Maybe we should consider her for Chief of Staff for the office of the First Lady,” I say slowly.

He half smirks at me. “Are you trying to pawn off Amy Gardner on my wife?”

Yes! “Sir, you don’t know her agenda the way I do. Trust me on this. She’s not who we need in that position. Working with your wife would allow her to work on women’s issues and not be a hindrance to our…”

He cuts me off again. “Helen has someone else in mind. Talk to Amy. No guarantees, just talk to her.”

There’s another long pause and I nod. “Yes, Sir.”

“And leave that list of names for Secretary of Defense. I’ll go over them with Barry.”

I nod and leave, going into my office and dropping into my chair. Now I’ve got the Swayne problem, the Goodwin problem and the Gardner disaster. And I still don’t have a Deputy Chief of Staff. This is going to be a horrible Saturday.

********** 

I feel like I’m ready to drop, literally. I was here at the office until two o’clock this morning and then came back in at six. It’s now almost ten o’clock Sunday night, and I have too much to do to even consider going home. When Donna was my assistant, this was about the time she’d come into my office with a sandwich and some aspirin, telling me I had one more hour before I had to leave. I could usually push it to two, but before I knew it she’d be shrugging me into my coat and handing me the book bag she’d conveniently emptied so I couldn’t do any work at home. 

She brought me lunch this afternoon and when she walked in I had the urge to kiss her. But we don’t seem to be at a place where I can do that, so I just left the door open and we ate while we talked about cabinet names she could give to the press. In the last two days, we’ve started to make a little progress in that area. We have a Secretary of Education, Health & Human Services, Commerce, and Transportation. 

But the thing with Donna is, she still takes care of me. It’s different now; she doesn’t make sure I’m wearing clean clothes, but she does make sure I’m eating fairly healthy. She doesn’t help me find things I’ve lost, but she’s there when I’m lost. We’ve spoken a few times on the phone this weekend, and she seems to know exactly what I need to talk about and exactly what I don’t have time to talk about. I need to make time for her, want to make time for her, want to feel her skin and taste her lips again, but another glance at the clock tells me it won’t be tonight. I make a mental note to call her in the morning.

I still don’t have a Chief of Staff, and if I don’t come up with another name soon, I’m going to have to offer it to Lou and find a different Communications Director. And Lou isn’t a sure thing. She’s been pretty scarce since the election and I fear that she’s not interested in a West Wing job. She’s told me as much about a hundred times. 

My cell phone rings and Bob comes up on the caller ID. I stand up and close the door before answering. “Hey.”

“I heard you got Benson for Secretary of Education,” Toby says instead of hello.

I sit back down and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes. “Yeah.”

“That’s a good call.”

“The President-elect wants Swayne for Defense.”

“Push Miller. He hasn’t had as much exposure as Swayne, but he served in the Air Force and was a Senator for twelve years. He’s been on the Foreign Relations and Armed Services committees and leans moderate if that’s what the he wants.”

I sigh. I know all of this. I’ve been over it a thousand times, with and without the President-elect. “I’ve told him Miller’s a better choice. He’s not listening.”

“You have to make him listen. You can’t have a republican for Defense. Agriculture, yes. Defense, no.”

I hang my head. I wish I could be doing this with Toby. I thought I’d be doing it with Leo, but if I had Toby at least, this would be manageable. Without either of them… “I know.”

There’s a pause before he speaks again. “How’s the inaugural speech going?”

“Otto’s…” I swipe my hand over my face and through my hair. “Young.”

“The victory speech was too repetitive, jumped around too much. He’s not bad, but he needs to tighten it and stay focused.” 

“What if…” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my desk. “Maybe you could…”

He cuts me off. “Someone will recognize my writing style, my vocabulary. You don’t want that to be the story.”

I sigh and pick up the note cards on my desk, flipping to Deputy Chief of Staff and wishing Toby’s name was on it. 

“You could call Will,” he says after a minute.

“We’ll manage,” I state dryly. 

“What about Sam?”

“Sam?” I ask, still looking at the card in my hand. I look up at the title. Deputy Chief of Staff. 

“Call Sam. He’ll help if you ask.” 

I stare at the card for another few seconds. “You think?”

“For you, yes. Call him.”

I pick up a pen and write Sam’s name in big letters across the card. That’s the name I’ve been looking for. “I will.”


	2. A Calming Presence

I'm not a fan of roller coasters. Not the kind at amusement parks and definitely not the emotional kind. Give me a sidewalk and a park bench and leave the loopty-loop and hydraulic launch for the crazies.

I like stability. I don't mind getting emotional, but I can't stand feeling three or four emotions at once. Now that I think about it, I hate the euphemism "emotional roller coaster."

But I'm buckled down and traveling 130 miles an hour down a dark and winding path.

And if I need to be reminded of this, all I need to do is look to my friends. Inevitably, they tilt their heads and make a sad face while saying, "I'm so sorry, Donna. You must be on an emotional roller coaster."

You think?

Let's see...I was a vital member on the campaign to get the first Latino elected President of the United States. Leo McGarry, a man I knew and loved, died of a heart attack on election day. And I slept with the man I've been pining over for nine years.

I'd say that gives me a free lifetime pass to Six Flags.

"Donna?" The door creaks and CJ peeks in.

I pretend to be engrossed in the latest issue of Vanity Fair. "Hey, CJ."

"Sorry I'm so late. We had some...stuff, you know, at the office," she stammers.

I notice her shirt buttons are mismatched.

"It's your place." I smile, pulling the blankets higher on my chest. "You can come and go as you please."

CJ tilts her head. "I just didn't want you waiting up is all."

"I wasn't," I say with a small grin.

This is my third night at CJ's apartment, and I'm hoping it will be my last. She has been incredibly generous, but the mattress is hard and the pillows are lumpy. It's also about 20 degrees in here at night. I've been sleeping in pajamas, a sweatshirt, and two pairs of socks. Her apartment happens to be three doors down from St. George's, and the church bells chime every hour from 4 a.m. until midnight. I guess CJ's used to it, but I've been waking up at the crack of dawn for the past two days.

My first night here wasn't so bad except for the fact that I wanted to be with Josh. How was I supposed to know he wanted me to go to his place? My only hesitation was that we would've had sex. Not that the two times we did it were bad. Quite the contrary. We have no problems with the actual sex part. It's what we do afterwards  
that's a bit awkward. We haven't seemed to master the art of cuddling. Besides, I didn't want to have sex the day we buried Leo. It would've been irreverent.

So instead of going to Josh's apartment and waking up physically satisfied, I stayed up with CJ until 2 a.m., reminiscing about Leo.   
Last night, CJ didn't get home until after midnight. I'm well aware of the hectic schedule White House employees keep. Hell, I lived it for seven years. But CJ has an even worse poker face than I do. I think the reason she came home late last night and is extremely late this evening is because she's seeing Danny.

In conjunction with her disheveled appearance, there are a few signs around the apartment that helped me come to this conclusion. First, she resurrected a framed picture taken at President Bartlet's first Inaugural ball. It's a group shot, but Danny has his arm around her waist. He's looking at her like a love-sick puppy. I remember seeing it on her mantle years ago. I even commented on it back then. However, I don't recall seeing it again the many times I've been here over the past eight years. Then there's the Post-It notes scattered throughout the living room and kitchen. One of them reads, "Call Danny." Another one is a grocery list complete with strawberries, whipped cream, and champagne. Finally, there's one with a heart drawn on it, as if CJ was talking on the phone, doodling.

Part of me wants to talk to CJ about Danny. Tell her that I'm genuinely happy for them. The other part is afraid of the can of worms we'd open. She wasn't exactly supportive of Josh and my relationship when I worked for him. In fact, she was blatantly against it. I don't think it had anything to do with hierarchy; rather, CJ thought I was wasting my time on a man who saw me as nothing more than a loyal assistant. It was never her place to judge me or project her own feelings of loneliness onto me. I still resent her a little for that.

We're on our way to mending the fence, no question, but it's going to take us a while to get back to the friendship we shared during our first few years in office. CJ was my confidant. I miss her, especially in this time of transition. She was my "go-to girl." If I needed a pedicure, CJ would join me. If I had a craving for Italian food, she'd make reservations at Toscano's. If I was in the mood for a stiff drink and good conversation, CJ bellied up to the bar.

As soon as Josh and I figure out what to call this thing we're doing, I'll confide in CJ. And I know it would be a relief for her to talk to me about her relationship with Danny.

"Need anything?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Thanks again for letting me stay here. I owe you."

She gives me a toothy smile. "Don't worry about it."

"Good night, CJ."

"A very pleasant night to you, too." CJ looks like a woman who was well and truly laid.

I've never been so envious.

**********

Just like the past two nights, I'm restless and cold. My thoughts drift to Josh the second I shut my eyes. I'm worried about him. He buried his mentor two days ago. Watching him heal is like watching the second hand tick on a broken clock. As expected, he drowns himself in work, putting in 14 to 16 hour days. At least it's not the 18 or 20 hour days like before. Still, he isn't getting enough rest.

I was surprised that he allowed me to comfort him immediately after Leo's death. A few months ago, Josh would've pulled away or pretended to be unaffected. But this time, he didn't try to cover up his tears or turn away when I put my arms around him. In fact, we slept together for a few hours before he left Houston for DC. The bed still smelled like sex, but we were both so tired, I don't think anything would've happened even if we were naked.

When I woke up not quite knowing where I was, I found Josh sitting on the edge of the bed with tears rolling down his cheeks. I stood in front of him, tears pooling in my own eyes, and grabbed his hand. He looked at me with those sad, sad brown eyes and whispered my name. I knelt on the floor in front of him and rested my forehead against his. It was almost like I was transferring my strength to him. When he got up, he looked determined and somewhat refreshed. When I got up, I felt like I was going to faint.

By the time I saw Josh again on Friday, he looked as though Leo's death had spiraled him down a dark path. I know he thinks about the daunting task of filling Leo's shoes. He wonders if his life will mirror his mentor's. The guilt this man feels consumes him. Always has. He feels guilty for bringing me down. For counting on me for support. For being vulnerable. Josh is getting to the point where he'd rather take on the world alone than have me holding him up along the way. He's becoming an isolationist.

I hate watching him go through this. I wonder if it would be easier for him if he *didn't* have me. However, I refuse to stand idly by while he spins a cocoon around himself.

Like me, Josh is on an emotional roller coaster, but his cart is stuck in the middle of the track. I'm not sure if he's willing to let me fix it.

I roll over in bed and stare at my cell phone. This is the second time tonight I've thought about calling him. I'm getting better. Last night I almost called him four times. I even held the phone in my hand once and scrolled to his name.

But Josh is a busy man. Not only does he have 6,000 positions to fill in two months, but he also has to advise the President-elect on everything from domestic policy to potential speakers of the House. He hardly has time to breathe much less take a phone call from me in the middle of the night. Besides, he needs sleep.

He needs sleep more than he needs me.

I flip on my side and snuggle deeper into the covers. I need sleep, too.

**********

If it isn't church bells waking me up this morning, it's my cell phone vibrating on the nightstand.

As I reach for the phone, I hear my back crack several times. I'm booking a massage at Andre Chreky today. I might not be able to go for, you know, six weeks, but I'm getting on the books.

"Hello?" I answer in a groggy tone.

"Good Mondy morning to you, Donnatella."

"Josh." I smile. "What time is it?"

"Almost noon," he responds.

I bolt upright and look at the clock: 6:40 a.m.

"Liar." I can't wipe the silly grin off my face.

"How's life at the bachlorette pad?"

I hear horns honking in the background and the chirping sound of a crosswalk signal. He must be walking to work.

"The bed's kind of hard and it's freezing in here, but otherwise it's good." I settle against the headboard and pull the covers up to my neck.

"I've got a down comforter and an electric blanket if you're interested." I picture him smirking.

I use the sexiest voice I can muster at this early hour. "I am."

"Come over tonight. If I'm not there, use your key."

I bite my bottom lip. "I'll order from Ming's."

"Sounds good."

You know that feeling you got when the most popular boy in school wrote a note saying he liked you? Multiply that by a hundred and you'll know half of what I feel like right now.

I'm going to spend the night with Josh. The man who excites me just by the way he rolls up his sleeves. The man who could read the phonebook out loud and turn me on.

To hell with church bells, lumpy pillows, and lovey-dovey Post-It notes. Tonight, I'm getting laid.


	3. A Calming Presence

There’s a tap on my office door followed by, “Josh.”

I recognize the voice before looking up, but still manage a half smile for Barry Goodwin. “Something you need?”

He comes inside and sits in the chair across from my desk. “Matt tells me you’d like us to consider Miller for Secretary of Defense over Swayne.”

It ticks me off that he’s not calling him Mr. President-elect. The position requires it and my staff, or what I have of a staff so far, has been using it since thirty seconds after the election results were announced. Barry’s the only one who can’t seem to be bothered with it. Like he’s trying to establish right away that he’s on equal footing with him. And he’s not.

And it’s not just that. Over the next eight years, the President will be forced to do things Matt would never do. 

Those two people need to be separated when it comes to anything regarding business at all. This is just another thing Barry Goodwin doesn’t understand, and is another reason he’s with the DNC. He’s very good at what he does, but he doesn’t do this. 

“Yes.”

“Swayne is a moderate republican, Josh. It’s not as though he’s going to suggest bombing Canada. Matt’s lacking in this area. He needs someone strong in the position.”

“The President-elect,” I say, stressing it enough to drive home my point, “is not lacking in this area. He has less experience in this area, which is one of the reasons I don’t want to see a republican ill-advising him. Miller is a moderate democrat. I feel more comfortable with that, and in a year, when the President-elect’s more comfortable with foreign relations, he will be too.”

“We gave you Fields, Josh,” he says as though at some point, Barry Goodwin and the President-elect sat down and talked this out, deciding just how to placate me. As though by not strong-arming Congress into making Fields the Speaker of the House, it’s my turn to give. But what really irks is that he acts as though it’s two teams; them versus me.

“The President-elect chose to follow my advice on Fields, yes. That’s a completely different issue and a decision I was, as his chief advisor, relieved to see him make correctly.”

“We’re trying to show some bipartisanship.”

“I’m all for bipartisanship. I have a republican in mind for White House Council. But not for Secretary of Defense or Justice. Not when war and weapons are in question.”

“He wants Swayne.”

“And I’ll continue to advise him against it until the minute he offers him the position.”

He stares at me for a second, then nods and walks to the door, pausing before opening it. “I ran into David Graden this weekend. He mentioned to me that he’d be agreeable to the position of Deputy Chief of Staff, if it was offered to him.”

“I have staffing assignments under control. But thank you, I’ll keep his name in mind.”

He nods. “Very well.”

Once he’s gone, I lean back and look up to the ceiling with closed eyes. I need a staff. I need to have support backing me when I’m trying to convince the President-elect to follow my advice. Leo used to march the four of us in front of the President’s desk… I smile at the memory. He always saw it coming from a mile away, but usually took our advice in the end.

I give myself just a minute to think of Leo, and then pull the note cards I made this weekend out of the top drawer of my desk, where I’ve been keeping them in case Donna comes in. 

I flip through them, looking at the circled name on each card; my choices for the first round of positions I need to hire.

But they all depend on the top one. The top card. If I can’t get Sam on board, so many of the others have to change. Lou moves to Deputy Chief of Staff, Annabeth to Communications Director, Donna to Press Secretary. How am I going to date my Press Secretary?

If I call him he’ll say no. He’s working for a very prestigious and not so sleazy law firm in LA. He’s got to make more money in a quarter than he will in a year as Deputy Chief of Staff. And he’s dating that chick; I can’t even remember her name. I can’t convince him over the phone. I have to go there. But how can I go there when Barry f-ing Goodwin is waiting in the wings to hand the republicans a key to the Sit Room? 

I look up at the clock. It’s almost eight. Donna left here at six to go to my place. I can’t leave her waiting like this; I practically begged her to come over tonight. But I need to check in with the President-elect before I leave. Make sure Barry Goodwin hasn’t asked him to do something ludicrous… like make Vinick his VP. And I need to check in with Lou; make sure she hasn’t found a new job before I offer her one. And I need to call the White House and get an update about Kazakhstan. And I need to meet with Amy so I can say that I tried but that she isn’t right for the job. And I need to …

“Ronna!”

A few seconds pass before she walks into my office. “When are you getting an assistant?” she asks with an evil glare my way.

I’d smile if I had the energy. “I’m leaving. I have… something.” I stand and start packing up my book bag. “Book me on the first flight to LA tomorrow and back late in the afternoon.”

“LA?”

I sigh. “Yeah.” I’ve got to go there. Get him excited. Look him in the eye with my crappy poker face and tell him Santos is the guy.

“Kay,” she says, nodding.

“Call me with my flight info,” I say as I walk out the door.

********** 

When I get home at 8:30pm, Donna’s on the couch talking on her cell phone. Her shoes and jacket are off, and her ear rings are lying on the coffee table in front of her, along with her watch. The blouse she has on is almost see-through and I can see the thing she wears underneath it; the carousal or whatever it is.

She looks up at me and smiles, holding a finger out to me, and I turn and walk into the kitchen towards the smell of Chinese food. It’s all very domestic and for a brief second, I freak out just as she predicted I would.

It occurs to me that I don’t know how long she’s staying. One night? Two? Until the twitchy chick from Treasury leaves her apartment? I don’t even know how long that is. Will she go back to CJ’s tomorrow? Will she need a drawer in my dresser? Am I going to want to let her go?

“Any news on Swayne?”

I snap my head in her direction just as she shuts the refrigerator door and hands me a beer. 

“No.”

“You didn’t kill Barry Goodwin, did you?” she asks, stepping a little closer to me.

“No.”

“Good.” She looks at me and for a second, even though I’m freaking out, I really want to kiss her. Nothing major, just a hello kiss. But there’s something in her demeanor that I can’t quite pinpoint; but it tells me that for now we’re… what we were before. Whatever that was. “Let’s eat while the food’s still hot.”

She steps back from me and grabs two plates out of the right cabinet on the first try. Then two forks out of the right drawer on the first try. Then she pads barefoot across my kitchen and into the dining room and sits down on the chair at the end of the table, and that’s when the panic attack ends. This is not all that new. She’s always known where the plates are and she’s always known where the silverware is. And she’s always chosen that seat at my table. And none of it’s anything to be freaked out by. So I sit next to her and we eat dinner together while talking about the transition.

It’s not until after dinner that things become new again, after she puts the uneaten food into the fridge and I put the dishes into the dishwasher. 

She shuts the refrigerator door and walks over to where I am, looking at me while tilting her head a little. And the unspoken thing is said that changes us from whatever we were to whatever we are, so I lean in and kiss her and she wraps her arms around me and kisses me back with those beautiful pouty lips of hers. 

It takes us an incredibly short amount of time to get to the bedroom and relatively naked, and although the sight of Donna lying on my bed in only her bra and underwear is definitely new, it’s a sight I’ve certainly imagined before. I find myself standing off to the side of the bed just watching her for a minute; she looks good there.

Donna and I have a few things tonight we haven’t had the past two times we’ve had sex; time and privacy. She can be loud tonight if she feels the need. I want her to feel the need. I don’t want her biting her lip to keep from screaming. I want to hear what I do to her; I want to have that power over her. Over something.

But first I want to kiss her everywhere. I want to take my time and get to know her amazing body. I’ve always known she was beautiful, but naked… she’s like a Greek goddess. Long lithe limbs, perfect breasts, an unbelievable neck, and a small stomach that curves out to full hips. She’s breathtaking.

So I do take my time and I do kiss her everywhere. I kiss her and touch her and tickle her and massage her. I learn that she’s ticklish just under her breasts on her side, that she moans when I nibble on her ear lobe, that she prefers her breasts sucked to bitten, that she likes to watch me kissing her hip bone, that her head falls back when my hand gets high enough on her inner thigh. I learn that she likes to watch me getting harder when she touches me, that she wants me to stop once I enter her and just look at her for a minute, that going slowly and almost softly is going to ensure lots and lots of moaning, but that hard short strokes at the end is what makes her scream. I learn that she’s very sensitive afterwards, that going back to her breasts can mean one more soft orgasm for her, that her chest and neck and face are an amazing shade of pink, that her kisses are long and slow and almost relaxing once she’s recovered.

But eventually I have to get up and throw the condom away, and something happens while I’m gone. Some part of her decides that it’s over, that it’s time to pull the covers up and hide, that she can’t watch me walk back to the bed. And I don’t know if she’s hiding from something or if this is what she prefers or if she thinks it what I prefer, but I can’t help thinking that if I didn’t have to get up I could prevent it from happening.

“Do you want… some water or something?” I ask, pulling back the covers on what is clearly my side of the bed.

She looks up at me for the first time. “Sure.”

I nod and go into the kitchen, pausing at the sink and wondering if I can get one glass for the two of us or if I need two separate glasses. It wasn’t five minutes ago that I had my tongue in her mouth, and although I think it might seem a bit strange to her, I feel the need to… I don’t know, cross some line or something. So I grab one glass out of the cabinet, fill it with filtered water from the tap, and add a few ice cubes to it.

“I thought you said you had an electric blanket,” I hear coming from the bedroom.

“Are you cold?” I ask as I start back towards the bedroom.

“No, I just…” she stops when I get to the doorway. I purposely take a drink of the water as I walk to the bed. She sits up a little and I hand it to her, acting as casual as possible, then I climb into bed. She looks at the glass and then at me, then takes a drink and hands it back to me. It’s a step. I’m not sure what, if anything, it means, but I’ll take it. “You said you have one.”

“An electric blanket?” I ask, leaning against the headboard.

“Yes.”

“I lied.”

“You lied?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “It seemed a good way to get you over here.”

She smiles and reaches for the water in my hands. Once she takes a drink, she hands it back to me and gets up, walking naked into the bathroom. Wow. I hear the water running, and when she comes out a few minutes later, I can tell that her face has been washed. It’s pink and she’s not wearing any make-up. She bends over and picks up my t-shirt. “Can I sleep in this?”

She’s going to sleep here. I knew that. I invited her to do that. Still, this definitely falls under the category of new. “Sure,” I say, watching with wide eyes as she slips it on. It’s too big on her, but it makes her look taken. Like if anyone else saw her in that, they’d definitely think we were, you know, together. She puts on her underwear next, turning her back to me to put them on. I take the opportunity to pull on my boxers, and then we’re in bed together again and it’s quiet again.

“I’m gonna… go lock the door and turn out the lights.”

She looks at me and nods her head up and down a few times. “Kay. I’ll… set the alarm. What time do you need to get up?”

This is turning domestic again. “Five,” I say walking out the door. “I’ve got a six o’clock flight.” I walk into the living room, looking at the clock on the wall as I pass to the front door. It’s just a few minutes after eleven. I haven’t been to bed this early in months. 

I lock the door and then go back into the bedroom, leaving the light on as I go into the bathroom and brush my teeth. When I come back out, she’s looking at me and watches as I turn off the light and get into bed. There’s light coming in from the window, although not a lot. I like being able to see her a little bit. I lie there for a minute next to her as we both stare up at the ceiling. “Is there… should I shut the curtains?”

She ignores my question. “You’re flying somewhere tomorrow?”

I look over and she’s looking at me. “Yeah. California.”

“Oh.” She turns her head and looks back at the ceiling. Then she looks back over at me. “I didn’t know you were going to California tomorrow.”

“I didn’t know until tonight.”

“Oh.” She turns her head and looks back at the ceiling. A few seconds pass and she looks at me again. “Should I go to CJ’s?”

My eyes widen. “Why?”

“Because you’re leaving early in the morning. You should… I don’t know. Get some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep if you’re here?”

“I guess you can.”

“I can.”

“Ok.” She looks back at the ceiling and then immediately at me again. “I’ll leave in the morning when you do.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re leaving.”

“So…”

“So I should go too.”

“No you shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t?”

“No. You should stay. You don’t need to get up that early.”

“Oh. Ok.” She turns her head and looks at the ceiling again. Another few seconds pass before she looks at me again. It’s becoming almost comical. “I’ll stay at CJ’s tomorrow.”

“No. Come back here.”

“You won’t even be here. I can’t stay here when you’re not here. That would be… weird. Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

“You will be?”

“Yeah. I’m just going to talk to Sam.”

“Sam Seaborn?”

“Yeah. About Deputy Chief of Staff.”

“Sam’s going to be your Deputy Chief of Staff?” she asks in a surprised voice.

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked him yet.”

She looks back at the ceiling again and it’s quiet for several seconds. “Push that the President-elect is a good man. That he’s not just a face. Talk up his education plan.”

“Ok.”

“Compare him to the President, but make sure he knows he’s his own man and is going to do new things.”

“Yeah.”

She looks back over at me. “You’re sure you’ll be back here tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?” As in ‘ok, I’ll stay here tomorrow night,’ or ok as in ‘ok, that’s good to know.’

“Ok.” 

Well that clears it up.

********** 

By the time I land in LA it’s after noon in DC, which means anything could have happened. I check in with the office and Ronna tells me that someone from the RNC made a statement that it was irresponsible for us to have had Leo as a running mate because of his long-term health problems. I ask to talk to Donna, but she’s helping Mrs. Santos out with something this afternoon, so I tell Ronna to get Lou, Otto and Annabeth to draft a statement and call me with it before releasing it to the press.

When I ask for the President-elect, she tells me to hold on because he’s been in his office all morning with Barry Goodwin, and she’s not sure if he’s available. 

When I do talk to him, he tells me that they spoke with Governor Baker on the phone and that he’s reluctant about the VP job because of his wife’s depression and the confirmation process. I say that I knew he would be, but refrain from saying that I could’ve told him how to handle the call had he waited to make it until I was there, and instead tell him that I’ll start quietly asking around to see how many votes short we are to get him confirmed.

The cab ride to Sam’s office takes forever. The traffic in LA is horrible and I can’t help thinking to myself that it serves them right for voting for Vinick in the election. I spend the hour discussing the press release with Lou and going over what I’m going to say to Sam, remembering what Donna said last night about making sure he knows that the President-elect is a good man like the President, but that he’s going to do his own things and focus on the issues he believes in the most. Donna, like me, knows just how to get to Sam. 

Donna and I were actually sleeping kind of close to each other this morning when the alarm went off. Close enough that our legs were brushing against each other under the covers. After I re-set the alarm for her, I laid there for a minute and looked at her, then took a chance and kissed her temple. She made a little sigh-type noise, and I took that as a good sign. 

After I showered and got ready as quietly as possible, I set the coffee maker to start brewing at seven o’clock and then started to leave. But something drew me back, and I walked to the bedroom door and watched her for a minute, lying there asleep in my shirt in my bed. I’ve never really done that before, left a woman sleeping in my bed. I’ve left women sleeping in their beds, but never mine. And I’ve never looked back and wished I could stay; not until this morning. Because Donna looked like she belonged there, and like I belonged there with her. 

When the cab finally drops me off, Sam’s less than surprised to see me and introduces me to a few co-workers like he’s been expecting me to show up. He looks good; happy and vibrant and relaxed, like he fits here, and I almost don’t offer him the job. If I weren’t a complete selfish bastard, I’d just walk away. But he knows I’m not going to, so he takes me outside and before I’ve even offered him anything concrete he says no. That he can’t. That he doesn’t miss it. That he’ll help with the inaugural address. 

In fact, it’s not until I tell him that I want him to be my deputy that he even pauses, and it takes even more prodding to get him to promise to think about it. But he absolutely refuses to make a decision today, saying he can’t decide something like this without talking to his fiancé. There’s a little, I don’t know, ping somewhere inside of me when he says this. Something that thinks it must be nice to have someone there when the tough decisions come up. 

Once I’ve done all I can do to convince him and he’s finished telling me how old and his word, haggard, I look, he offers to drive me back to the airport. We stop for lunch on the way and he asks about Leo’s funeral and how Mallory was and how the President’s handling it. Then he asks about the President-elect.

“He’s real?”

“Very. Too real at times.”

He chuckles. “You’re having a hard time handling him?”

“You wouldn’t believe,” I say, taking a bite of my burger.

“What about your staff?”

“What staff?”

“You haven’t started staffing?”

“I need a Deputy before I can figure out the rest. Know anybody?” I ask with a look.

He shakes his head and smiles. “You have some ideas, I know you do.”

I put down my burger and lean forward a little, excited about this team I’m putting together. It’s not Toby, Sam, and CJ, but it’s good. “Lou Thornton for Communications Director. Annabeth Schott for Press Secretary.”

“You’ll have to get a shorter podium.”

“That’s going to look awkward when Donna’s doing the briefings.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Deputy Press Secretary?”

I pause and then nod. “I think so.”

“Hmm…”

“What?”

“Nothing. She’ll do well there.” He pauses and looks me over while he takes a bite of his turkey, no cheese, no mayo, no taste on whole wheat low-carb bread sandwich. “When was the last time you took a day off?” 

“Off what?” I ask around a full mouth.

“It’s been that long?”

I shrug. “I don’t remember.”

He shakes his head at me, but then his eyes perk up. “Why don’t you stay for a few days? We can drive up the coast, take out the boat, talk more about the…”

I cut him off. “I can’t. I’ve got to get back. I’ve got to find a Vice-President, a cabinet, and a few thousand employees.”

“Josh…”

“What?” I laugh. “I’m busy.”

He picks up his napkin and wipes his mouth in a somewhat dainty way that Toby would absolutely make fun of, then puts it down and looks at me for a few seconds. “When does it become about more than work?”

I look at him strangely. “When does what become about more than work?”

He shakes his head and speaks quietly. “Life, Josh.”

********** 

I look out the window as the plane takes off. There’s a blur of movement and then tiny houses and the ocean, and eventually, there’s nothing but blue sky and white clouds. I glace down at my book bag, shoved underneath the seat in front of me, but then back out the window. Work can wait. Not the whole six hour flight, but for a few minutes. The nothingness outside is nice.

I lied to Sam. I told him I didn’t know when the last day I had off was. It was last year, the week of Memorial Day. I took five days off to go to Germany. I’ve worked at least six days a week every week since. Most weeks, seven. 

He asked when it becomes about more than work, and I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. I can’t even believe how pathetic that is. But then I think about last night. I had so much to do, but I chose to go home to Donna. That was about more than work. And running through that hospital lobby in Houston… that was about more than work. And running through that hospital lobby in Germany… that was about... I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the window. That was about everything.

I don’t know how to do this. Leo couldn’t make his marriage work, Toby wasn’t able to make his work, CJ, Will, me, Donna… none of us has ever been able to make a relationship work while working in the White House. I don’t know if it’s even possible.

But I know that Sam’s fiancé called him while he was driving me to the airport. And he smiled the whole time he was on the phone. And Toby was telling me about his kids the other day, how Huck follows Molly everywhere, and his voice was… I don’t know, softer. 

And making love to Donna last night was different than it had ever been with anyone else ever before in my life. And part of me can’t help thinking that could be more important than work.

I feel a bump and turn my head to see the people around me gathering their things from the overhead bins. It takes me a few seconds to realize that we’ve landed and that I spent the entire flight thinking instead of working, and then it takes me another few seconds to realize that I didn’t really come to any conclusions. 

I reach into my pocket and turn on my cell. It’s 10:30 and I’m tired and hungry, but even so, I’m debating as to whether or not I should go into the office. I have several messages when the phone powers on; one from Ronna telling me that Amy Gardner confirmed lunch tomorrow, one from Barry Goodwin telling me that we’re meeting with both Miller and Swayne tomorrow morning at eight and eight-thirty, and one from Donna, saying she was sorry she missed my call while she was with Mrs. Santos, but that the statement about Leo went fine and she’s having dinner with Margaret and should be back to my place by the time I get home.

When I’ve finished listening to all three messages, I’m off the plane and waiting for a cab. When the driver asks where I’m going, I think of Donna and give him my address instead of the office. It’s ten minutes to my apartment in Georgetown and although I beat Donna, I’ve barely gotten my coat and tie off before I hear her in the hallway fumbling with her keys. I open the door for her and she smiles. “You’re back.”

“I am,” I say, holding the door open for her.

“You missed quite a day.”

“Unless the world’s falling down, I don’t want to talk about it.”

She takes a step towards me and smiles seductively. “Who said anything about talking?”


	4. A Calming Presence

Maybe I'm being foolishly optimistic, but I've always been a "the glass is half full" kind of girl. 

It wasn't easy, but I sweet talked my way into my doctor's office for his last appointment of the day. God bless the man for working late hours. Told him I'd name my first born after him if he'd do a quick check-up and renew my birth control prescription. This is of course a lie, seeing as how I'd never curse a child with a name like Lucius.

I'm not certain where my relationship with Josh is headed, but if it goes in the direction I'm hoping, I'd eventually like to have sex without a condom. Not that safe sex is less enjoyable, but there's something about making love with no barrier between us that makes me...happy. So I'll get some blood work done to be on the safe side, and I'll go back on the Pill. I wouldn't want little Lucius to arrive before I'm ready.

I arrive at Josh's place at 7:45 p.m. The first thing that hits me is that I haven't been here in well over a year. I remember spending restless nights on this sofa while Josh was recovering from surgery. I cringe at the thought. Everything looks exactly the same. It even smells the same – like leather and coffee and cologne. It's distinctly Josh.

He should be home any minute, so I order Chinese food, then call Twitchy Twyla about my apartment. She's in no rush to move, so I have to lay it down. I give her three weeks to move out. Twyla knew this was coming. I'm even giving her an extra week from what we originally discussed. Of course, I have no idea where I'll stay during those three weeks, but at least I'll have my own apartment back in less than a month. 

As I'm ending the call, Josh breezes in. My heart flutters when I see him in his rumpled suit, backpack haphazardly tossed over his left shoulder. I'm glad I'm on the phone; otherwise, my breath would've hitched. 

He goes straight into the kitchen. I suspect he's stealing a piece of Kung Pao chicken. I end the call, then walk toward the refrigerator. After the door closes, Josh turns toward me. I have a sudden urge to kiss him. Judging by the way his eyes narrow and he gulps, I know we'll get to the kissing later.

And kiss, we do, but it's so much more than that. Josh spends an inordinate amount of time exploring my body. With every touch, every kiss, it's like he's learning what I enjoy; cataloguing it in the back of his mind. I never knew I had a sensitive spot just below my breasts. I never thought I'd find the sight of Josh kissing my hip bone more erotic than a strip tease. He has me moaning loudly and sighing at every turn. Some of the noises I make surprise me. Josh seems pleased with my reaction, but he's not smug. I'm sure he'll become smug if we continue this, but for now, he seems genuinely content discovering every inch of my body.

I try reciprocating, but Josh doesn't allow me to do much to him. Instead, we have sex in four different positions, two of which make me come. I've never had the pleasure of three orgasms in one night, but Josh finishes me one last time simply by sucking on my nipples.

It surprises me when he gets out of bed. I'm assuming he's going to dispose of the condom, but the last two times we did this – the only two times – he disposed of it with something next to the bed. I wonder if he leaves so he can put some space between us; if he's giving me this opportunity to collect myself. I pull the covers over my chest and scoot to what I'm assuming is my side of the bed.

We make small talk for a few minutes before I learn that Josh is going to California to recruit Sam to be his deputy. This is certainly news to me. Why didn't he mention it when we were discussing staff appointments over dinner? It bothers me that this is the first time Sam's name has entered the conversation. As far as I know, Sam is living the life of a high paid lawyer in Los Angeles with a beautiful attorney girlfriend.

Instead of dwelling on why Josh didn't tell me about Sam, I give him some pointers on how he might convince Sam to come on board. I'm halfway talking out of my ass, but I think I'm making at least a little sense when it comes to supporting the President-elect.

By the time 11 p.m. rolls around, I can tell Josh is ready to go to sleep. I could use some shut eye as well, so I yawn and stretch my arms over my head. I wish he'd pull me closer. Even if he put his hand on my arm, I'd be content. But we're as far away from each other as we were the first two times. If we continue sleeping together, I'm going to have to talk to Josh about cuddling. Or, you know, show him.

I'm in and out of sleep when the alarm goes off at 5 a.m. I feel Josh kiss me on my temple, and I sigh. It wouldn't take much to rouse me from my half-awaken state and get me to continue where we left off last night. 

When Josh goes into the shower, I turn on my side and fall into a deep sleep. I don't remember the last time I've slept this hard.

It isn't until the alarm sounds at 7 a.m. that I wake up to realize Josh has left. I stretch and roll onto his side of the bed. As I take a deep breath, I smell coffee brewing. I smile against his pillow.

*  
After a quick lunch with Ronna and Edie, I make my way back to the transition office. We had a lot of catching up to do, but not nearly enough time to do it. When we were campaigning, the three of us always made time to eat one meal a day together. It turned into somewhat of a gab-fest about everything BUT the campaign. I think we all needed those trivial conversations. They kept us from overdosing on politics.

When I walk into the office, I'm greeted by Mrs. Santos perched on the corner of my desk. She's holding two Starbucks cups.

"Hi, Donna." She hands one of the cups to me. "I thought you might like a noontime pick-me-up."

I smile. "Thank you."

"Take a walk with me." She juts her head toward the door. 

I put my purse down and follow the future First Lady outside.

"Have you gotten much rest since the election?" she asks, tying a bright pink scarf around her neck.

"Not really, ma'am." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear.

We walk at a slow pace down the sidewalk. It's rather chilly outside, but the sun is warm against my back.

"Neither have I." Mrs. Santos sighs. "I should probably get used to it."

I smile. "Yes, ma'am."

"You did a fine job working with the press during the campaign, Donna." She turns the corner. "And you certainly made a good impression on the staff."

"Thank you. It was a pleasure." 

The sun is almost blinding in my eyes. I squint but continue looking at Mrs. Santos.

"There's also the added bonus of you knowing how to handle Josh." 

I reply with my standard line. "I worked with him for almost nine years."

She shakes her head. "God bless you."

I chuckle. "It wasn't that bad."

"Josh is a good man." Her face softens. "And he has faith in my husband. That goes a long way."

I give her an appreciative smile.

She stops next to a row of cherry blossoms that have already lost their leaves. "How would you feel about working for me?"

My eyebrows are surely near my hairline. "Working for you?"

She nods. "I need a Chief of Staff. I'd like it to be you."

I am blown away. I feel heat rising from my chest to my face. I move my mouth to speak, but no words come out.

"I don't need an answer today," she continues. "But you're my first choice. I wanted you to know that."

My hand flies to my chest. "I'm honored."

Mrs. Santos smiles. "I'm going to Houston for a couple of days. When I come back, we should talk."

"Thank you," I reply not quite knowing what else to say.

I never would've expected such an offer. I thought I'd possibly qualify for a deputy position of some sort, but Chief of Staff for the First Lady? That one wasn't even on my radar.

We walk in silence for a few minutes, heading back to the office. I'm startled when Mrs. Santos speaks again.

"So," she says, looking at the pavement. "What's going on with Lester and Edie?"

I'm grateful for her easy tone. 

"Is there something going on?" I ask, hoping she can't see straight through me.

I'd really enjoy getting Mrs. Santos' take on the campaign flings.

"I'm a pretty observant woman," she says with a sly grin. "I notice these things."

I gulp. 

Judging by the slight tilt of her head and the wide grin on her face, she knows there's something going on between Josh and me. I am this close to spilling my guts and telling her how confused I am. Asking her how she's held on to the man she loves when his life is dedicated to politics. Then I think better of it. She's not in the same position as I am. She's married with two children. Her husband has proven time and again that he's committed to his family. They come first even if it is a close call.

I don't have to ask Josh what comes first. Politics has been his life for almost 20 years. No woman has even come close to competing with that.

"How do you do it?" I didn't mean to ask that question out loud.

Mrs. Santos looks a bit confused. "Do what?"

Might as well go for it since I opened the bag. "Maintain a healthy relationship while your husband dedicates his life to serving the country."

She lets out an incredulous chuckle. "Healthy?"

I smile, knowing that she understands what a personal life consists of in the political world.

"We never stop communicating." She shrugs and looks pensive as if this is the first time she's really considered it. "Matt and I have our disagreements, believe me, but we talk about what's bothering us. We have meaningful conversations even if we have limited time."

I lower my head. "Sometimes it seems impossible."

She purses her lips. "I know."

Working for this woman would be an honor. In fact, there is no other position on the staff that I want more than this. But if Josh chooses politics over me, I'm not sure I want to be involved at all in the Santos administration. Seeing him every day and not getting to touch him would downright kill me. I can't go back to the way things were. That's the trouble with what's going on between us. I've had a taste of what loving Josh Lyman is like.

***  
The last time I was in a shopping mall was a year ago at Christmas. However, I need a tube of Clinique Antioxidant Rescue Serum and a new pair of black pumps. The heel is dangerously close to breaking off of my Via Spiga's.

Margaret and I have a quick dinner in the food court of all places. She brought the baby with her, so while we're able to talk about surface-level stuff, we aren't able to delve into what's happening in our lives. The most serious part of our conversation is about losing Leo. At one point, Margaret has to wipe her eyes. We make a pact to have dinner together without the baby and in a real restaurant next week.

The mall closes at nine, but there's a coffee shop across the street that stays open late. I contemplate going back to Josh's apartment, but it feels weird there without him; like I'm intruding. I probably shouldn't feel that way, considering how firm he was about my staying over tonight.

I order a chai latte and sit at a corner table, thinking of how to tell Josh about my conversation with Mrs. Santos. He sprung the Sam thing on me last night, so I'll just spring the First Lady's thing on him tonight. 

There are a few ways Josh could react. He might be upset, hurt, confused, or shocked. Or he might think that this is the perfect solution. We could both work for the Santos administration, but he wouldn't be my boss. If our relationship moves to the next level, this could be the best scenario. However, if Josh sees this thing between us as a purely sexual journey, I can't see myself sticking around.

I despise the thought of giving up my career for a man, even if it's Josh. And that's what I'd be doing. I couldn't ask Josh to quit just to be with me. He's responsible for getting Matt Santos elected. It would make much more sense for me to walk away quietly. I could get a job as a legislative liaison or a lobbyist. Sasha Vargas called me two days ago to be her spokesperson. But I don't want to work any place else. I'd rather serve my country than make six figures. Ok, I'd like to make six figures while serving my country, but that isn't going to happen.

The couple sitting across from me catches my attention. The woman is reading a book, while the man has his hand on her thigh. He's glancing at the newspaper, but I can tell he's having trouble concentrating. He keeps looking up at her. She takes a sip of coffee, then licks her lips. The man smiles and the woman stares at him. She leans forward, kissing him softly on the lips. Public displays of affection usually nauseate me, but this is different. It's sweet and innocent and exciting.

I never thought that watching two strangers in a coffee shop would give me insight into what I want with Josh. 

That. 

I want that. 

I want Josh's hand on my leg while I read about literacy programs in Georgia. I want him to lean over and kiss me when I least expect it. I want to whisper three little words in his ear in the middle of a noisy room. I want to make love on a Sunday afternoon with the curtains wide open.

Taking the last sip of my chai latte, I decide to head to Josh's apartment before he gets home. I might even surprise him with the matching bra and panties I bought from Victoria's Secret.

As I'm about to stick my key in the lock, Josh opens the door.

I smile. "You're back."

"I am," he says, holding the door open and stepping to the side.

"You missed quite a day." I sigh.

He runs a hand through his hair. "Unless the world's falling down, I don’t want to talk about it."

I take a step toward him and smile seductively. "Who said anything about talking?"

Within seconds, my lips are fused against Josh's. We kiss so hard, so desperately, that our teeth scrape against each other. He tastes like peanuts and ginger ale. Josh puts his hands on my shoulders, pushing my jacket down my arms while kicking the door closed behind us. He backs me up until my butt hits the sofa. My purse drops to the floor and Josh's mouth drops to my neck. 

"Mmm, Josh," I moan.

"I thought you said no talking?" He continues kissing my neck and chest.

I unbutton Josh's shirt, untucking it along the way. "That wasn't an actual sentence."

He runs a hand under my blouse, making his way to my breast. "Are we really going to discuss sentence structure right now?"

"No," I reply, pulling his head back up so I can kiss him again.

The sex we have this time around is more like the first two times. It's frantic and hot. We can't get close enough to one another. It seems that Josh wants to pleasure me as much as I want to pleasure him. I figure he had his turn last night, although that was much different than what we're doing now. So I massage his back and work my way down to his perfect ass. I spend some time fondling his balls until he warns me that one more touch might send him over the edge.

Josh reaches for a condom, and I almost stop him. I don't want to use one. However, now might not be the best time to tell him that I went to my doctor's office and got a clean bill of health. While I'm sure he'd be happy about that and the fact that I'm back on the Pill, it would be a real mood killer. So he slips the condom on and enters me quickly. All it takes is five pumps before I'm lost. Josh must come at about the same time, but I'm so overwhelmed by this sensation deep within me that I can't really tell.

"Wow," he pants, rolling off of me but keeping one arm under my pillow.

"Yes," I reply, breathing just as heavily. "I could use some water."

Josh reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the glass that we drank out of last night. I don't care how long the water has been sitting there, I'm parched. I take a long swig, then hand it to Josh, who finishes it in two gulps.

He sets the glass back on the nightstand, then turns on his side away from me. I hear the rubber snap. He didn't go to the bathroom to dispose of the condom this time. As soon as he's done, Josh rolls over and puts his arms around me. He has never done this before or after sex. He nuzzles his head against my neck and sighs. This feels so damn good.

"How's Sam?" I ask.

"Good." He sighs. "Probably too good."

I turn my head, causing him to look up. " What do you mean?"

Josh rests his head next to mine. "He's a junior partner at his law firm, and he's engaged."

"Wow," I reply. "Does that mean he turned down the position?"

He shrugs. "He said he'd think about it, but I'm not counting on him."

"I'm sorry, Josh."

"Me, too." He uses his thumb to make little circles on the skin just below my belly button. "I was thinking..."

I turn my head toward him. "Yeah?"

He removes the arm that was under me and props his head up on his hand. "You did a nice job as spokesperson during the campaign, and I think you'd be a great –"

"No," I blurt out.

His forehead creases. "I was just going to offer you –"

"I can't."

"You can't what?" He takes his other hand off of my body. 

Now we're not touching at all.

"I need to tell you about a conversation I had today," I say.

Josh pushes his body slightly away from me. I wonder if it's so he can get a better view of my face or if he's afraid of what I'm about to say.

"A conversation with whom?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Mrs. Santos."

"Mrs. Santos?" he asks. "Helen Santos?" 

"She wants me to be her chief of staff." I swallow hard, waiting for his reaction.

Josh blinks a few times and opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

"She told me I'd be good for the job," I begin, nervously balling the sheets into my fist. "Apparently, I'm her first choice."

Josh looks down, then back up at me. "Is that something you'd want to do?"

"It would be an honor." I give him a nervous smile. "Though it's not something I would've thought I was qualified for."

"You're qualified to do a lot of things, Donna." He puts his hand back on my stomach.

Although I've since covered myself with the sheet, the warmth of Josh's hand sends a wave of heat throughout my body. "You really think so?"

His face slowly breaks into a smile. "Yeah. I do."

I lean over and kiss him gently on the lips. When I pull back, I'm dangerously close to telling him three words that would make or break our relationship. Instead, I kiss him again with a little more fervor. 

We fall asleep in each other's arms, and when I wake up, I'm tangled up in Josh.


	5. A Calming Presence

She can’t look at me that way and say something that seductive in that voice and not expect me to completely ravish her body, right? Because, that’s what I do. I pick my tongue up off the floor and then I pull her flush against my body, spinning her around and pushing her against the first hard surface we hit, which in this case happens to be the back of the couch. And that’s a shame, ‘cause had it been the wall, I could’ve taken her right there.

She’s unbuttoning my shirt and pulling it out of my pants, which I agree needs to be done, but she’s really getting in the way of me getting her naked, which I find far more important at this point. I settle for palming her breast while scraping my teeth against her collarbone. 

It’s almost hard to believe that something so completely different from last night can still be so good, but it is. It’s hot and fast and utterly fantastic, and I’m not sure my shirt makes it through in tact, which just adds to the hotness. She does this thing to my ass with her hands that makes it difficult to not come on the sheets, and when it’s either do that or not make a fool out of myself, I flip her over, grab a condom and enter her hard. Within seconds she screams and comes, which is a very good thing, because I’m right behind her and it would’ve been a shame to finish before her.

There’s no sucking on her breasts to get another orgasm out of her tonight; it’s difficult enough to even breathe, and I roll off of her panting and staring up at the ceiling. “Wow.”

“Yes,” she pants out as well, both of us utterly still for a good two minutes while we come back down to some semblance of normal breathing. “I could use some water,” she finally says.

I don’t have the strength to get up. I haven’t even taken care of the condom, which is quickly becoming a problem, but I am able to summon the strength to turn my head, where I see last night’s water sitting on the night stand. I reach over and hand it to her and she can barely pull her head off the pillow to take a drink. If I weren’t just as worn out, I’d be smirking right now. She hands it back to me and I finish it, and then I’ve got to take care of this condom before I’m sleeping in a puddle of my own making; which is just disgusting.

Not only do I not have the energy in my legs to carry me into the bathroom, I’m thinking I don’t want to get up and give her time to wig out on me. So I tie off the condom and set it on top of my probably ruined before and definitely ruined now shirt. Then I give myself a little pep talk and before she has a chance to retreat onto her own side, I roll over close to her and put my arm around her, kissing her neck and ear. She smells like us; it’s hot as hell.

Donna might stiffen for just a second, I’m not sure, but if she wants me off of her she’s going to have to literally push me away. We’re going to get better at this if we have to have sex every day for the rest of our lives, damn it. She doesn’t though; she’s just quiet for a second and then asks about Sam.

I tell her about Sam and his job and his tan and his engagement, although I choose to leave out that he thought I looked like hell. If she doesn’t realize it, there’s no need in pointing it out. We talk about him for a minute and then it’s quiet, but not the awkward quiet that it was the other times we had sex and no idea what to do next. Instead, I rub circles on her unbelievably soft skin and she closes her eyes and sighs contentedly.

"I was thinking..." I mumble a few minutes later.

She opens her eyes and looks at me. "Yeah?"

I prop my head up on my hand and watch her for a few seconds. It’s kind of premature to do this, since I don’t know about Sam yet, and that means I don’t know about Lou or Annabeth yet. But I haven’t offered her a job, and I don’t want her thinking I’m not going to. So I do something I’ve never done before. I offer someone a job while I’m naked. "You did a nice job as spokesperson during the campaign, and I think you'd be a great –"

"No," she says loudly, cutting me off.

"I was just going to offer you…”

"I can't,” she says, cutting me off again.

I take my hand off her stomach and stare at her. “You can't what?" 

She bites her lip a little bit and looks away from my eyes for a second, then meets them again. "I need to tell you about a conversation I had today."

Holy hell, she got offered another job! What the hell? I distance myself from her and tell myself not to yell. I can’t believe this is happening; she’s leaving me again. This can’t be happening. "A conversation with whom?" I say as calmly as possible.

"Mrs. Santos."

"Mrs. Santos? Helen Santos?" I squeak out. I went away for one day and Helen Santos stole Donna out from underneath me? 

She nods the slightest bit. "She wants me to be her chief of staff. She told me I'd be good for the job. Apparently I'm her first choice." Donna was who the President-elect was talking about on Saturday?

I look down at her fiddling nervously with the sheets. She’s nervous about my reaction. I take a deep breath and look back up at her. "Is that something you'd want to do?” I ask in a voice that sounds stronger than it is.

"It would be an honor," she says with a small smile. "Though it's not something I would've thought I was qualified for."

Part of me wants to tell her she’s not qualified. That she’s good but not quite ready, and that she should come and work as my deputy press secretary for a few years first. But it’d be a lie and as much as I want her near me, I’m not enough of a bastard to crush her like that. So I put my hand back on her and quietly and sincerely say, "You're qualified to do a lot of things, Donna."

"You really think so?"

Yes, which is just one of the reasons I’ve always done my best to keep her so close. I try to smile and hope I succeed. "Yeah. I do."

**********

I look over at the clock at 5:52am. It’s not the first time I’ve looked at the clock this morning. I didn’t sleep well last night, choosing instead to spend the night trying to figure out why Donna’s leaving me again. A familiar ache hit me as I watched her sleeping contentedly on my chest all night, and it reminded me that she doesn’t need me as much as I need her. I could never leave her. 

I actually came up with a few ways last night with which I might be able to convince her to stay. I could ask her to be press secretary. She might take that over the First Lady’s chief of staff. If Sam doesn’t take the deputy job, I’d be giving it to her anyway. And if he does, I could offer Annabeth media director. I could maybe offer her legislative director. I don’t know if that would be enough to make her stay, and I’d have to convince the President-elect that she’d be better at it than Amy, but it’s at least a possibility.

She moves a little, sighing and turning her head on my chest so that her breath hits it each time she breathes out. I put one of my hands in her hair and remind myself that her taking the job with Mrs. Santos could make this thing with us easier. There wouldn’t be rumors of impropriety or special treatment or Donna sleeping her way to the top. But if she were working in the west wing with me, we’d see each other every day. Donna grounds me, keeps me sane, calms me… it might be selfish but I don’t want her a wing away from me.

The clock turns from 5:59 to 6:00 and the alarm goes off. Donna takes several seconds to move, but then she looks up at my face and smiles, then pulls her head up and kisses me. It’s not anything major, but it is our first morning after kiss, so I guess we are getting better at this thing.

We get ready for work together, which definitely falls under the category of new. She comes into the bathroom while I’m brushing my teeth and does the same right next to me. She dries her hair while wearing only a bra and her pants while I’m trying to concentrate on shaving at the same sink. She even takes the tie I’m putting on out of my hands and gives me another instead. It’s… domestic like, and while it’s not at all bad, it’s certainly not something we’ve ever done before, and I find myself in a state of bewilderment most of the morning. For instance, am I allowed to kiss her shoulder while it’s naked? Is it ok to stare at her breasts? Am I supposed to share the newspaper? Can she pick out my clothes every morning?

********** 

“By appointing Swayne, you’re sending a message that you want to be the President to everyone, not just those who voted for you,” Barry Goodwin says to the President-elect once we’ve met with both Swayne and Miller. “It’s an immediate step towards bipartisanship.”

“It’s not about bipartisanship,” I say, ignoring Barry’s glare and looking at the President-elect. “You appoint a republican to the be the Secretary of Defense and you’re sending a statement to the American public that when it comes to war, weapons, foreign relations, the armed services… republicans are better equipped to handle it.”

“I think I’m telling them I want the best man for the job, regardless of his party affiliation.”

“No, you’re telling them that if we go to war they would’ve been better off with the other guy.”

“Swayne’s familiar with Kazakhstan. He’s been in the negotiations, the briefings, he’s an expert on China,” Barry says.

I put my head down and rub at the back of my neck. I need some Advil. “Miller has two months to get up to speed on Kazakhstan,” I say, looking back up at them. “The important thing is that he shares our goals and objectives. He’s worked extensively with Kumar, Iran, Israel… his experience with the Middle East far outweighs Swayne’s.”

“Kazakhstan’s the focus, not the Middle East.” 

I look over at Barry like he’s lost his mind. “Have you forgotten the peace-keeping mission in the Middle East? The mess in Gaza and Palestine? You can’t base this decision on just Kazakhstan.”

“Ok,” the President-elect says. “I’m going to think about this for the next few days before I decide for sure. Where are we on Agriculture?”

********** 

I hate this place. And what’s even more… she knows I hate this place. The posh upper crowd drinking martinis and eating quiche, the wait staff acting as though you’re nothing but a bother, twenty dollars for a salad that’s less than filling... But of course this is where she’d choose. It’s good for her to be seen with the next chief of staff and this is definitely the place to be seen. 

She’s sitting at a strategically placed table looking over her menu when I arrive, and doesn’t even look at me before making my headache worse. “You haven’t called Sarah.” 

“No. The President-elect said…”

“Call her, Josh. She’s the best you can do, really.”

I’m tempted to tell Amy that dating Sarah would interfere with my dating Donna. Just to see the look on her face. “I’m not here to talk about Sarah.”

She looks at me over her menu. “Legislative Director.” 

“Yes. The President-elect said he mentioned it to you.”

“Offered it to me, you mean.”

I shake my head as our waitress approaches. “No.”

The waitress takes our drink orders and as soon as she’s gone, Amy leans back in her chair as though she’s interviewing me instead of the other way around. “That’s what it sounded like to me.”

“Then you misinterpreted him.” 

“Meaning… you told him not to hire me.”

“Meaning… he asked me to talk to you about the position and give him my recommendation. You’re one of several people we’re considering.”

“The others are all men, I’m sure,” she says dismissively.

I point to her. “See that? Right there, that’s why we’re not sold on you.”

“Women are 60% of your vote.”

“Actually, women were 51% of our vote, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

She rolls her eyes and looks over at the wall. “What are you talking about then?”

“I can’t just worry about women, Amy. And our legislative agenda can’t be focused on women. It’s not all about welfare and abortion rights. What ideas do you have concerning children, education, men’s health issues, foreign adoption policies, gay marriage, immigration reform? Can you make it about the country?”

She crosses her arms over her chest defiantly. “I don’t need to justify myself to you, Joshua. If the President-elect…”

I lean forward and cut her off. “Actually, you do,” I say quietly. “You’d answer to me, not to him.” She scoffs and I lean back. “If you can’t work under me there’s nothing else to discuss.”

“Excuse me? Unlike the rest of your staff, I know you. I’ve slept with you Josh. You can’t really expect me to…”

“I don’t expect you to do anything, Amy. But my staff will listen to me, they will respect me, and they will put the administration’s interests above their own.”

She stands up and glares at me. “I think we’re done here.”

“I agree,” I say with the hint of a smirk on my face. 

“I’m going to talk to the President-elect.”

I nod. “Good luck with that.”

********** 

Mallory stops by the office around four o’clock. I didn’t know she was coming, so when I walk into my office and she’s standing there holding a baby, I’m speechless. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, of course not.” I turn and shut the door, then clean off a chair and pull it up near my desk. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks,” she says quietly, sitting down and shifting the baby so it’s leaning against her chest. 

I sit on the edge of my desk and watch her for several long moments. She looks sad, but good as a mother, and I find myself reaching for the tie Donna handed me to wear this morning and smoothing it down. “How’re you doing?”

She nods and tries to smile, but it fades and she’s quiet again. 

When I can’t take the silence any longer, I say, “It was nice to meet your husband last week.”

She smiles faintly. “He’s been really wonderful.” 

“Good.”

It’s quiet again until the baby makes some sort of noise and Mallory holds it out in front of her. “Have you met Allison?” she asks me while looking at the baby.

My eyes widen a little. “No, I…” I trail off as Mallory stands up.

“Would you… like to hold her?” My eyes widen and not knowing what else to do, I hold out my arms and Mallory carefully puts Leo’s granddaughter into them.

I find that I really can’t speak. I’ve never been great with kids, which isn’t to say I don’t like kids. I just don’t have much experience with them. But this… holding Leo’s granddaughter… it’s left me speechless. 

“You got her?” 

I nod and turn her a little bit so she’s against my chest. She looks at me and then sticks her hand out and grabs a small fistful of my hair. Mallory laughs a little, which is nice, and gently untangles me from the baby’s hand. “She’s… how old is she now?”

“She was six months on Friday,” she answers solemnly, putting a towel over my shoulder. After a few seconds, Allison lays her head down and I strain my neck to look at her.

Mallory sits back down and I walk carefully behind my desk and sit down as well, leaning back a little bit and awkwardly patting Allison’s back.

“I just… I wanted to thank you.”

I look up at her. “For what?”

“For being there at the hospital and helping with the arrangements and for…” she stops and wipes her eyes with the tip of her finger. “He loved it Josh. Loved running and being a part of all of this. Thank you… for that.”

I don’t trust my voice enough to say anything, so I nod and close my eyes for a second, resting my cheek on top of the baby’s head. She’s soft and warm and breathes loudly and I can’t help thinking that she’s never going to know her grandfather. “You’re dad meant the world to me,” I say quietly a minute later.

“I know,” she whispers, nodding. 

“I’m not quite sure what I’m going to do here without him.”

She nods again and looks down into her lap. “Neither am I.”

********** 

There hasn’t been time to think today. I’ve rushed from one meeting to the next, from one phone call to the next, from one strategy session to the next. I haven’t heard from Sam, Lou’s still avoiding any talk of a job within the administration, and I’ve spent the entire day with a headache that won’t go away. Things are still up in the air with the Secretary of Defense appointment, I had to have lunch with Amy, and then Mallory came by.

It’s ten o’clock by the time I leave the office and I have nothing more accomplished than I did Monday night. I’m tempted to call Sam, but I told him I’d give him a few days before I started harassing him, so I turn off the light and head to Donna’s office, which is dark. 

I stare out the window of a cab the entire way home, thinking about Leo’s granddaughter. I know Donna was right when she told me no one could ever make Leo do something he didn’t want to do, but… he never would’ve considered it. No one ever would’ve considered it if I’d just kept my mouth shut.

My head is pounding by the time the cab drops me off and I’m so exhausted that I’m not sure I’m going to make it up the stairs. But I do, dragging my book bag behind me because I don’t have the strength to pull it up to my shoulder.

When I walk inside, Donna’s got something playing on the stereo, but I don’t see her. I drop my book bag by the door before heading into the kitchen in hopes of finding some left over Chinese or anything else that might be edible.

“Hey stranger,” she says from the refrigerator when I walk into the kitchen.

She’s still dressed in the outfit she wore to work. She must not have left much earlier than me. “Is there any Chinese left?”

She pulls out the two white take-out containers and sets them on the counter. “A little. You want me to heat it up?” 

I walk over and open them. Neither has more than a few bites left, so I throw them away and start searching the cupboards for some soup or something.

“I heard Mallory came to see you today.”

“Yeah,” I say distractedly. “She brought the baby.”

“That’s nice.” I close the cupboard and turn around to face her. “You look beat,” she says when she gets a good look at me.

“I’m just hungry,” I mumble, walking past her into the living room and picking up my keys off the table by the door. I open the door and wait for her, but she doesn’t follow me. Finally, I turn around and see her still standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching me. “Are we going to get some dinner?”

She walks up to me and runs her hand down my arm. “What’s wrong?”

I look off towards the stereo. “I’m tired and hungry and I have a headache. Let’s just go.”

“I can…” she stops and studies me for a second. “Did you hear from Sam today?”

“No.” I don’t have a chief of staff, a communications director, or a deputy press secretary. I’m going to have to talk to David Graden. Just another thing Barry Goodwin will be pleased about.

“Is it Swayne?”

And that’s when I snap. “I have to talk about this stuff all day at work, Donna. Is it too much to ask to not have to re-live it at home?” 

Her eyes widen and her shoulders stiffen. “You’re not allowed to talk to me that way.” I just stare at her and she continues. “I want to support you and be here for you, Josh, but you can’t…”

“You don’t want to support me or be here for me,” I spit out. “You’re just like the rest of them, leaving when I need you the most. I’m about to do the hardest thing of my life and you… how is it so easy for you to just walk away from me?”

I practically yell this and the room goes deafly quiet while Donna looks at me with unbelieving eyes, succeeding in making me feel like a schmuck.

I close my eyes and rub my palm hard over my face. “I’m …”

“Don’t.” she says in a soft, commanding voice. I open my eyes and look at her again, but I can’t meet her eyes, and after several seconds of hard silence, she picks her purse up off the table and walks out.

“Donna…”

“I’m going to CJ’s,” she says without looking back.

********** 

Sometimes my selfishness completely blows me away. I look at things I’ve done and I can’t even believe it was me who did them. I wouldn’t yell at Donna because I had a bad day, and I certainly wouldn’t make her feel like a traitor because she got offered a wonderful job that she deserves and would be amazing at. That had to be someone else. Some other bastard who doesn’t know what he has in her, who wasn’t held together by her last week when his second father died. It had to be someone else, because I would never hurt her like that.

I collapse on the couch after she leaves, falling in and out of a fitful sleep and wondering how I’m going to make it up to her. I don’t even know how to apologize. Should I be sorry as her friend, the guy she’s dating, sleeping with, living with… should I be sorry for yelling at her, betraying her trust, not supporting her… I don’t even know where to begin.

I finally drag my ass off the couch at four o’clock and take a shower. CJ should be getting up within the next hour or so, and whatever I’m going to do, I’m going to do the very second a light comes on in her apartment.

I let the hot water beat down on me, hoping it will wake me up since I haven’t slept more than three or four hours total in the last two nights. Donna’s shampoo is in here and I pick it up and read the label. Mango… I’ve always wondered what that amazing smell was. I briefly wonder if I should take it to her, but I like the way it looks in here and I have no intentions of not having her here tonight, so I leave it and her toothbrush and everything else she left here last night.

While I’m showering, my stomach starts growling and I remember that I was starving last night and still haven’t eaten, so once I’m dressed I walk into the kitchen and turn on the coffee maker, then go to the fridge to see if I have anything that can serve as breakfast. 

Crap. 

She went grocery shopping. There’s Yoo Hoo and beer in the refrigerator, as well as some bread and a bag of apples. And in the freezer, there are two frozen pizzas and some frozen waffles. I’m such an ass. 

Thirty minutes later I’m knocking on CJ’s door. Starbucks isn’t open yet, and neither are any florists, but I have a cup of Folgers from my place and I ordered flowers for her from 1-800-flowers.com that she’ll get later today. It’s a quarter till five and even if Donna doesn’t kill me, CJ or the secret service probably will, but this can’t wait. I let it wait once before and she started working for Bingo Bob.

When CJ answers the door, she’s wearing a robe and a look of death, but I don’t let it stand in my way. “I need to talk to her, CJ.”

“So help me, Josh. If you’re drunk…”

“I need to talk to her.” 

She looks at me with an evil glare. “If I go wake her up, is she going to want to talk to you?”

“No, but I need you to wake her up anyway.”

“Josh…”

“I’m awake,” we both hear Donna say as she walks into the foyer. 

I look over at her. She’s wearing pink flannel pajama bottoms and a pink t-shirt and I realize that she must’ve still had things here, which doesn’t feel right. Her things should be at my place.

“I’m going to take a shower,” CJ says before retreating back into the apartment.

I wait until CJ’s gone before thrusting the coffee out towards her Donna blurting out, “I’m sorry.” 

She takes the cup from me and stares at it, unimpressed. “It’s early, Josh.”

“Just… hear me out. Two minutes. Then you can slam the door in my face.”

She doesn’t say anything, but after a second she opens the door and steps aside to let me in.

I take a deep breath before starting. This is gonna hurt, especially this first sentence. “I’m frightened that I can’t do this job. The President-elect isn’t listening to me, Barry Goodwin’s trying to push me out, I’m having staffing nightmares that include being forced to hire Amy Gardner and I held Leo’s granddaughter yesterday.”

She shakes her head and starts to say something, but I keep going. 

“And not one of those things gives me an excuse to talk to you the way I did.”

“No,” she says quietly but firmly.

“And I have no right, none at all, to expect you sacrifice your career to help me with mine and no right at all to make you feel guilty for not wanting to. You were offered a career-defining job that you’re more than qualified to do and I should be the first one to stand up and tell you how proud of you I am.”

“Yes, you should be.”

“Then let me say it. I’m proud of you. Unbelievably proud. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I took things out on you instead of letting you in. I’m sorry that I undermined your work and accused you of something you’d never do. And I’m sorry that I let you leave when I should’ve been begging you to stay.”


	6. A Calming Presence

As I walk to my car after a productive meeting with Otto and Annabeth, there's only one thing bothering me: I can't recall the last time I felt this good.

I would say it was when we won the election, but Leo's death dampened my spirits. It might've been when Josh threw snowballs at my window four years ago. Or the time he told me I looked "really great" in my red dress. However, none of those things compare to how I feel right now. I've been offered a dream job to work for the future First Lady. I've gotten positive media coverage about the President-elect  
in every major market. And I've had sex with Josh four times.

I'd say that gives me license to walk on cloud nine.

It's not only the sex part that has me so chipper, although that is really, really good. Rather, it's what we did afterwards that makes me giddy. We finally broke the no-touching-after-sex barrier. Josh held me last night until we fell asleep. And when I woke up this morning, my head was resting on his chest while he was running his hand through my hair.

It doesn't get much better than that.

The funny thing is, I know it *can* get better. Josh is slowly figuring out what he wants out of this. At least I think he is. He wouldn't have held me so close or touched me so much if he didn't want more than just sex. He could've escaped this morning with nothing more than a wave and well wishes for a good day. Instead, we got ready for the day together.

Josh has a small bathroom. It would've been easy to get in each other's way as we were brushing our teeth or while I was blow drying my hair and he was shaving. But there were no awkward moments and no bumping elbows. It was domestic and natural -- like we'd been doing it for years.

I smile at the memory. Nothing is going to ruin this day.

My phone rings as I'm about to make a right onto F Street.

"Hello?"

"Hey there, stranger."

I smile at the familiar voice. "It's been two days since I saw you, CJ, I'd hardly call us strangers."

"True," she says. "How've you been?"

I secure the ear piece in my right ear and lower the volume on the radio. I'm driving Josh's car today. He insisted that I take it while my car is getting a check-up.

"Great," I reply with a little too much enthusiasm.

"Where have you been the past couple of nights?"

Shit. I hadn't thought about having to answer that question.

An uncomfortable amount of silence fills the air.

"Donna?"

"Sorry, I went through a bad cell patch," I say.

"Oh. I just asked where you've stayed the past two nights," she repeats.

I take a deep breath. If I lie, there's a good chance CJ will find out later. And I don't want to lie to my friend. If I tell her the truth, it's going to open the bag that I've kept so firmly shut.

I decide to be honest. "Josh's."

"Josh's?" she asks. I can picture her eyebrows making an upside down V. "As in Josh Lyman's apartment?"

Does she know another Josh? If so, does she really think I'd be staying at his house?

"Yes." Keeping my answers simple might help me out here.

"Oh." I hear her chair squeak and wonder if she's reclining. "I thought... I didn't...Oh."

Maybe I can just change the subject. "How's Danny?"

Nothing like turning the tables.

"Danny Concannon?"

Again, last names really aren't necessary. We both know exactly who's who, and we have a vague idea of what's going on. I might be a little more clued in than CJ, but still.

"Yes," I reply with a slight grin. "Danny Concannon."

"Danny's fine," she says. "He's in Santa Monica."

"What's he doing there?"

CJ sighs. "Looking at property."

I crease my brow. "Property?"

"He's thinking of moving to Southern California."

I hear Margaret calling for CJ in the background.

"I have to go. Something about running the country," she says.

I smile. "Ok."

"We should have dinner. Are you free tonight?"

I don't know the answer to that. Does Josh expect me to stay at his place? Should I spend a couple of nights at CJ's to give us some space? I don't feel like I need space, but he might. Besides, we probably shouldn't go from zero to 60 in one week.

"I'm not sure. I'll call you later," I say.

"Sounds good."

After I hang up, I realize CJ and I need to have THE conversation. We've both grown in our jobs and in our personal lives. There's no reason to dwell on the past. I *want* to tell her about me and Josh. I want her to be open with me about her relationship with Danny. That's what girlfriends do. And it would take a huge weight off my shoulders to tell someone about the shift in our relationship. I can't tell Ronna or Edie or anyone on the Santos staff. My mom would ask if we've discussed marriage yet. That would be followed by a request for grandchildren.

I pull into a front space in the grocery store parking lot. I've never been to this store before, but it's close to Josh's place. As I stroll down the aisles, I think of what Josh might need or want. God knows when the last time he's been to the store was. I don't want to overwhelm him by buying all of his toiletries and a basket full of food. There's one thing about being domestic and another about going overboard.

I walk down the toiletries aisle and look at all of the options. Josh was shaking a can of Right Guard this morning and making a funny face when only a little spray came out. I pick up a new can and place it in the cart. He has zero food in his apartment, save for the one can of chicken noodle soup in the back of his cupboard. I might've seen a bag of Mahatma rice in there as well. I grab a loaf of bread and two frozen pizzas. He'll probably want beer sooner or later, and Bud Light is on sale. I put a six pack in the cart. A display of Yoo Hoo catches my eye across the aisle, so against my better judgment, I grab three. I figure he's going to need some kind of breakfast food, so I throw in some Eggo waffles and a bag of apples. Maybe Josh will eat healthier if I stock his fridge with fruit.

Thirty-two dollars later, I'm back in Josh's car, heading home.

It's strange that I'd refer to Josh's apartment in my head as 'home.' It's not my home. Far from it. And I'm too uncertain about where our relationship is going to even think of it that way.

I don't expect Josh to be there when I arrive, so I briefly consider taking a hot bath. I can't remember the last time I did that. My aching muscles would appreciate it. I walk into the apartment, and a familiar scent hits me like a ton of bricks. I take a big whiff of whatever it is that makes this place smell like Josh. It makes me smile.

I put my purse on the table and set the two grocery bags down on the floor. I'm sure Josh wouldn't mind if I turned on the stereo. While his TV is relatively new, this thing is ancient. I wouldn't be surprised if he has cassettes or even eight tracks somewhere in here. I dust the top of the black box off, then press play on the CD player. Joni Mitchell belts out one of my all-time favorite songs.

It isn't until I'm halfway down the hall that I realize this is my CD. I walk back into the living room and stare at the CD player.  
The few times I stayed with Josh during his recovery, I brought some CDs to help pass the time while he was sleeping. He asked me to turn off the stereo more than once, but when Joni Mitchell was on, he never complained. Until this moment, I hadn't realized that I'd left this CD here. I wonder if Josh just never bothered to change the CDs or if he listened to this over the years and thought of me.

I turn up the volume, then go into the kitchen to put away the groceries. I make a mental note to call CJ in a little while. Maybe she'll want to have dinner tomorrow evening. Tonight, I wouldn't mind having an all-American meal: frozen pizza and Bud Light with Josh by my side.

Just as I put away the last of the food, Josh breezes in.

"Hey stranger," I says from behind the refrigerator door.

"Is there any Chinese left?" Not the greeting I hoped for, but he's probably just tired and hungry.

I pull out the two white take-out containers and set them on the counter. Maybe he just has a hankering for Chinese food. "A little. You want me to heat it up?"

Josh opens the containers, sniffs the contents of one, then throws both of them away.

I'll heat one of the frozen pizzas in a moment, but first, I want to catch up on his day.

"I heard Mallory came to see you today." I lean against the counter.

"Yeah," he says distractedly. "She brought the baby."

"That's nice." A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Josh holding little Allison would be a beautiful sight to see.

He closes a cupboard and turns around to face me. There are circles around his eyes and his lips look dry. While Josh's hair is never neatly brushed, it's more out of control than usual.

"You look beat," I comment.

"I'm just hungry," he mumbles, walking past me into the living room and picking up his keys off the table. He opens the door and waits expectantly.

I'm not sure where he thinks we're going.

Finally, he turns around. "Are we going to get some dinner?"

Josh is not operating on all cylinders. It's 10:30 p.m. on a Thursday night. Where does he think we're going to get dinner? Even Subway and the deli down the street are closed. 

I walk up to him and run my hand down his arm. "What's wrong?"

He looks off towards the stereo. I wonder if he realizes that I've discovered that he still has my Joni Mitchell CD. "I'm tired and hungry and I have a headache. Let's just go."

"I can…" I hook my thumb toward the kitchen, but I don't finish my sentence because of the look on Josh's face. Maybe I can get him to tell me what's bothering him, then he'll relax. This might require a little fishing. "Did you hear from Sam today?"

"No," he replies hastily.

"Is it Swayne?"

And that's when he snaps. "I have to talk about this stuff all day at work, Donna. Is it too much to ask to not have to re-live it at home?"

His tone makes my entire body tense. I take a step back. "You're not allowed to talk to me that way."

He closes his mouth and just stares at me.

The way our lives are consumed with politics, I expect to talk about it at home. But that's what we should do -- *talk* about it. Not re-live it or yell about it. "I want to support you and be here for you, Josh, but you can't…"

"You don't want to support me or be here for me," he interrupts. "You're just like the rest of them, leaving when I need you the most. I'm about to do the hardest thing of my life and you… how is it so easy for you to just walk away from me?" he practically  
yells.

The room goes deafly quiet as I stare at him with unbelieving eyes. How does he consider my taking a job in the east wing walking away? And comparing me to 'the rest of them' makes my heart sink. I'm not like the rest of them, not even close. I'm sleeping with him. I kept him in one piece when he thought we'd lose the election. I held him up last week when Leo died.

He closes his eyes and rubs his palm hard over his face. "I'm …"

"Don't," I say in a soft, commanding voice. I'll be damned if Josh tries to apologize or blame this on anything other than his selfishness.

He opens his eyes and looks at me again, but he can't seem to meet my eyes. He's shaking his leg expectantly. It's like he's gearing up for round two. After several seconds of hard silence, I decide it's in our best interest if I leave. I pick up my purse and walk toward the door without looking back. I don't want him to watch the tears  
pooling in my eyes.

"Donna," he calls in a pathetic voice that wouldn't get me to stay under any circumstance.

"I'm going to CJ's," I respond. I close the door behind me and practically run down the steps.

I suck as much air into my lungs as possible to try to steady my breathing. It isn't until I reach the street when I realize that my car is in the shop. My hands shake as I call a cab. I mess up on my first two attempts. I hope it whisks me away before I have second thoughts about leaving.

Once I'm in the cab, I dial a number by memory.

"Hey, CJ."

"Donna, hi. Is something wrong?"

It's funny that she can still pick up on my mood just by the tone of my voice in two little words.

"I know it's last minute, but can I stay at your place tonight?" I ask, ignoring her question.

"Of course," she responds. "I'll leave the door unlocked."

"Thanks. I'll see you soon."

I turn off my phone and gaze out the window.

My heart pounds when I think about the things Josh said to me. How could he stand there, look me in the eye, and say those things after all we've been through together? How can he compare me to anyone else in his life? I feel my stomach churning, and I have the sudden urge to vomit.

"Can you pull over?" I put my hand on the driver's seat. "Please, I need you to stop the car."

The cabbie looks back at me and grumbles. He pulls the car onto the shoulder, and as soon as it stops, I open the door and stumble out. My breathing is shallow and I have sweat beads on my forehead. My entire body feels clammy. I take a few steps down the sidewalk, then lean over with my hands on my knees.

'You're just like the rest of them.'

I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, hoping that the nauseous feeling will subside.

I did walk away from Josh once. I left him, and I shouldn't have done that for personal reasons. Professional, sure. But nothing between us has ever been purely professional. I tried to talk to him several times before quitting, but Josh kept putting it off. He never allowed me to explain.

But I came back. I came back, and he refused to accept me. He was prepared for that moment. He knew I'd return to him, and he was armed with reasons why he couldn't take me back. I didn't give up after being humiliated. I did everything humanly possible to return to his side. And when he finally took me back, I made a promise to myself: I'd never leave him again. Ever.

Until tonight.

I left him. It doesn't matter if it's not a permanent thing. I left Josh hungry, tired, and frustrated with his job, not with me.

I throw up a little into the grass. There's not much in my stomach, so I spend most of my energy dry heaving. This really hurts. All of it.

I contemplate going back to Josh's apartment and apologizing for walking out.

"You ok, miss?" the driver asks.

I stand up straight and wipe my mouth.

"Yeah." After one more deep breath, I get back into the taxi. "I'll be fine."

*  
When I arrive at CJ's apartment, the door is open just as she promised.

"Donna?" She walks toward me, tightening her robe. "You sounded upset on the phone."

I lower my head. I'm afraid if I speak, I'll start to cry.

CJ grabs my hand, causing me to look up. "You don't look so good."

"I've had better days," I admit.

She releases my hand and hooks her thumb toward the kitchen. "I think I have a bottle of chardonnay in the fridge."

"That would be nice." I follow her into the kitchen and take two glasses out of the cupboard.

She pours a generous serving of wine in each glass. "So what happened?"

"I never thought..." I look away for a moment. "I didn't want this to come up under these circumstances."

She looks confused.

I pull out a kitchen stool and sit down with a thud. Before I take a sip of wine, I set my glass back down on the butcher block. 

With a deep breath for fortitude, I spit out the one thing that CJ had to know was coming but has waited as long as I have to hear it. "Josh and I are sleeping together." 

Her eyes look like they're going to pop out of her head, and she nearly chokes on her wine.

I twist my hands in my lap. "We've been sleeping together since election day."

She leans forward. "I'm assuming you mean the most recent election and not the one we had eight years ago."

This earns her a small smile. "Yes. Eight days ago, not eight years."

She tilts her head. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"I mean, wow," she says again.

"I know." I feel a blush crawling across my cheeks.

"How did it happen?" she asks, taking a seat next to me.

"It's kind of a long, convoluted story." I sigh.

She shrugs. "I've got all night."

We make our way to the sofa with the bottle of wine. I tell CJ the whole story, starting with me going to Josh for a job after Santos won the Democratic nomination and ending with our fight an hour ago. Now she has the salient facts.

"He didn't mean it, Donna. You have to know that." She puts her hand on my arm.

"It doesn't matter." I shrug. "It's ok if he's stressed out. That's bound to happen, but he can't take it out on me. I'm supposed to be the one who helps him through it, not his punching bag."

"I'm not making excuses for him, but Josh has been through a lot in the past week."

"So have I," I say in a loud voice. "The difference is the way we handle it."

"You know him better than anyone," CJ begins. "He's never been good at expressing his frustration with anything other than yelling."

I put my empty wine glass on the coffee table. "He's never yelled at me. At least not like that."

CJ sighs. "His stress level is at an all time high."

I cradle my head in my hands. "I'm done making excuses for stressed out men in my life. Look what happened with Jack Reese."

"I forgot about him. That was some night." She gives me a nostalgic smile. A moment passes, then her face turns serious. "I made a grave mistake, Donna."

I look into her eyes.

"Before you left on the CODEL..." CJ lowers her head. "I said some things...I shouldn't have..." She looks back up at me. "I shouldn't have said any of it. I didn't even believe any of it." 

"CJ, you don't have to –"

"Please, let me finish." She holds her hand up. "I insinuated that Josh didn't share your feelings. That you stayed in your position just so you could be close to him. That was awful of me." She puts her hand on her chest.

I knew this conversation would happen sooner or later, but I figured it would be one drunken night when our lips were loose. Tonight, we've each had two glasses of wine. Hardly enough to blame it on the alcohol.

"When you were hurt...I've never seen anyone react the way Josh did." CJ looks incredibly sincere.

I feel tears stinging my eyes.

"He relentlessly tried to find out about your condition. It was almost like he was possessed." She takes a deep breath. "He flew to Germany with nothing more than his backpack and credit cards." 

"He thought it was his fault," I whisper unable to look CJ in the eye.

"It was more than that." She returns her hand to my arm. "Donna, for the first time, I realized that Josh was in love."

I swallow hard and slowly lift my eyes.

She squeezes my arm. "He loves you. And if I had to guess, I'd say he's loved you from the start."

I raise my eyebrows and will the tears back into my eyes, but it's a fruitless attempt. "CJ, I..."

She pulls me to her and hugs me tightly. "I'm sorry for doubting that, Donna."

I don't know how to respond. I cling to her and sniffle a couple of times.

I miss this woman's friendship more than I thought possible. This is how it should be – two women who've been through all kinds of hell, comforting each other and expressing the hard things that need to be said.

When I pull back, I notice a wet streak down CJ's cheek. She wipes her eyes. "Look what you've done to me!"

I smile and wipe my own eyes. "I'm worse than you!"

She lets out a long breath. "This is just a little bump in the road. I'm sure Josh will apologize soon."

I don't ever want to think of that night in CJ's office again. The matter is done, and we're moving forward, both even stronger for overcoming it.

"Thank you, CJ." I hold her hand. "You don't know how much that means to me."

She smiles. "It's late. We really should get some sleep."

"Not so fast," I say. "There's still the matter of you and Danny."

Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "What on earth are you talking about?"

I sniffle and laugh. "Don't think I didn't notice."

She leans back and sighs. "Look at us. Two successful, powerful women who've been in love with the same schmucks for nine years."

"Tell me about it." I shake my head.

CJ tells me how she and Danny rekindled their romance a few weeks ago. I have a feeling she's going to end up with him, which quite possibly means she'll move to Southern California. I don't even want to think about her being that far away.

"What time is it?" she asks.

I look at the clock. "It can't be one in the morning."

"I'm afraid so." She stands. "Feel any better?"

I stand next to her and give her a toothy smile. "Yes, I do."

We hug one last time, then go off to our rooms.

It has been an incredibly long day. Depending on Josh's mood tomorrow, it could get even worse.

***  
I have no idea what time of day it is when I hear voices coming from the living room. One voice is distinctly male. I get out of bed and peek down the hallway. Josh is standing on the other side of the door with a silver coffee mug in his hands. I might be upset, but I've never been so glad to see him in my life.

"No, but I need you to wake her up anyway," he says.

My demanding man. I bite my lip and suppress a smile.

"Josh…" CJ is blocking him from entering the apartment.

"I'm awake." I walk into the foyer.

The bags under Josh's eyes are still there, but they aren't as pronounced as they were last night. His hair looks wet and one of his shoes is untied. Judging by the way his tie is not fully tied, I suspect he got dressed in the car.

"I'm going to take a shower," CJ says before retreating back into the apartment.

As soon as CJ's out of sight, he thrusts the coffee towards me and blurts out, "I'm sorry."

I take the cup from him and stare at it. Coffee has always been a thing between us, but thanking him for the gesture doesn't seem appropriate right now. "It's early, Josh."

"Just… hear me out. Two minutes. Then you can slam the door in my face."

I have a quick internal debate about letting Josh in. On the one hand, I don't want to do this in CJ's living room. On the other, I really want to get this thing over with. One look at his brown eyes and hidden dimples, and I acquiesce.

He quickly steps inside, closing the door behind him. He takes a deep breath before starting. "I'm frightened that I can't do this job. The President-elect isn't listening to me, Barry Goodwin's trying to push me out, I'm having staffing nightmares that include being forced to hire Amy Gardner and I held Leo's granddaughter yesterday."

I shake my head and start to tell him I'm sorry for walking away last night, but he keeps talking.

"And not one of those things gives me an excuse to talk to you the way I did."

He's right. There's no excuse for him to talk to me the way he did last night. At least he recognizes it. Josh isn't one to make the same mistake twice.

"No," I say quietly but firmly. I put the coffee cup down on a side table. I'm going to need my hands to be free for the hugging that will undoubtedly ensue.

"And I have no right, none at all, to expect you to sacrifice your career to help me with mine and no right at all to make you feel guilty for not wanting to. You were offered a career-defining job that you're more than qualified to do and I should be the first one to stand up and tell you how proud of you I am."

I'm stunned at Josh's admission. "Yes, you should be."

He looks like he's geared up for a big speech. His eyes are wide and his posture is perfect. His hands hang between us, palms up. "Then let me say it. I'm proud of you. Unbelievably proud. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I took things out on you instead of letting you in. I'm sorry that I undermined your work and accused you of something you'd never do. And I'm sorry that I let you leave when I should've been begging you to stay."

I blink back the tears that threaten to fall. I know this isn't easy for Josh. He's never been good at apologizing.

"You hurt me," I say with my best stoic expression.

His face falls. "I'm sorry, Donna."

He takes a small step closer to me. He smells like Dial soap and mint toothpaste. I really want to pull him to me and hold him for a few hours.

"When you get frustrated or have a bad day, you can't take it out on me." I tilt my head. "You can't, Josh."

"I know." He touches my wrist with his thumb, and I nearly lose it.

I look up at him, noticing the fear and uncertainty in his eyes. I step closer until our chests are nearly touching, and I turn my hand over. He threads his fingers through mine.

"I'm sorry, too." I lower my head.

"For what?" He lifts my chin with two fingers.

"For walking out last night." I meet his gaze. "I shouldn't have left you like that. You should never have to beg me to stay."

He clenches his jaw.

I place my free hand on the back of his neck and work my fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp until his eyes shut. "When you walked in last night, I could tell you'd had a rough day. I should've cut you some slack."

Josh moans, and I rub the base of his neck a little harder. "Maybe offered you a cold beer and some pizza."

He opens his eyes and smiles. "You're forgiven."

I look directly at him. "I won't do it again."

He simply nods, then his lips touch mine in a very innocent kiss. I pull back, and Josh's free hand cups my cheek. He tilts my head slightly, then kisses me several times. I get the feeling he'd like to escalate the kiss, but I pull back before it goes too far. 

"We still need to talk," I say.

He nods his agreement.

I take a step back, and his right hand drops from my face. However, we're still holding hands near my hip.

"We need time to figure this out." I pause and motion a hand between us. "Not just this, but everything. You need to focus on a multitude of political issues, and I need to decide where I want to be professionally."

He looks at me but doesn't respond.

"Four weeks," I say. "Let's take four weeks to regroup and get things settled in our lives."

"Four weeks?" He raises his eyebrows. "That's a month."

I nod. "We need it, Josh."

"What if I said no?" he asks.

I find his defiance sexy as hell, but I don't tell him as much.

"It's not an option." I pull my hand from his, hoping he understands the seriousness of this matter.

"Please don't pull away from me," he whispers.

I had no idea Josh was as affected by our fight and this subsequent discussion as I was. In fact, I've never seen him so vulnerable before. I can't leave him like this. There's no way I can do that to him.

I put my hand on his shoulder and slowly work my way to his neck. "It doesn't mean we have to be apart the whole time."

"No?"

I shake my head. "No."

He closes the gap between us, and this time I let him take the kiss a little further. His tongue is in my mouth before I know it, and he tastes too damn good to let go. My hands are in his hair and his are around my waist as we deepen the kiss.

"Whoa!" CJ says, entering the room.

I quickly pull away from Josh, but he keeps his arms around me.

"Sorry, CJ." I blush.

"I guess the cat's out of the bag." Josh smirks.

"You're a lucky man, Joshua," she responds. "I'm going to put on a pot of coffee. Care to stay for breakfast?"

Josh kisses my forehead, then releases me. "I have to prepare for a seven o'clock meeting with Barry Goodwin."

"What a way to start the day," CJ comments from the kitchen.

"Tell me about it." He runs a hand through his hair, then turns back towards me. "Maybe we can have lunch later?"

I nod and smile. "I'd like that."

"Me, too," he whispers.

I walk Josh to the door and kiss him one last time before he leaves. He has once again demanded that I take his car, so he calls a cab to pick him up. When he's gone, I spend a couple of minutes on the porch, composing myself.

For the first time in nine years, I'm pretty sure I know what Josh wants: me.


	7. A Calming Presence

That’s the second ultimatum I’ve received today.

Do I look like I need two ultimatums in one day? I’m on the verge of an ulcer, I’ve got a President-elect going rogue, and apparently I look like shit. I need this too? 

How does he expect me to leave for a week, a week! I have no vice-president, no press secretary, no deputy press secretary, no legislative director, no secretary of defense, no secretary of state, no secretary of agriculture, and apparently, no deputy chief of staff! I have a semi-girlfriend, sort of, who very sweetly told me this morning that we’re taking four weeks to figure us out, which I’m pretty sure meant we have four weeks to figure us out, which I’m pretty sure means I have four weeks to figure us out. 

I have a DNC snake trying to either steal my job or make it impossible to do, the soon to be first lady poaching my employees, a President-elect who’s quite possibly having a fist fight in the oval office this very second and an assistant/speechwriter who’s not capable of writing the inaugural address! I’m supposed to leave for a week? I wasn’t even planning on leaving for the night!

I throw myself into my chair, rubbing my eyes and temple. My stomach’s killing me and my head feels like it’s going to explode. Donna hasn’t seen the pharmacy on my desk, nor did she hear me yell at Otto, thank goodness. If she knew of either, I wouldn’t be contemplating a vacation so much as booking time with my shrink.

I lean back and close my eyes. I have too much to do to leave. I can’t take a vacation right now. Maybe after inauguration I can go visit my mom for two or three days. A long weekend maybe. I’ll tell Sam that, he’ll take it. Or not. 

I quickly sit up straight and then stand up. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time to contemplate a vacation I don’t have time to take. I’ve got two months to get things ready. Two months. That’s nothing. I need to finish staffing, I need to return a hundred phone calls, I need figure out the Donna thing, I... 

“Ronna!”

Ronna comes into my office with lightening speed. She looks… hell, she looks scared.

“Can you uhh… can you get Annabeth Schott on the phone for me?” I ask as nicely as possible.

She nods and leaves very quickly as I fall heavily back into my chair. How did it get this bad? 

“Ronna!” 

She comes in talking fast and looking at the floor. “…her a message on both her home and cell phones telling her you need to talk to her immediately, and I e-mailed her as well. I was just about to call…”

“I need Sam. And...” I rub my hands over my face and stare down at my desk. I’m scaring my staff. I have a President-elect who doesn’t trust me to advise him when I’m this close to the edge. I have an entire two months to fill three more cabinet positions and three more senior staff positions. And I have Donna… who’s asking me to help her figure out what we are before the craziness of this life we’ve chosen takes over and rips the decision out of our hands... again. “Find me the nearest travel agency.” I say, stopping her mid-sentence. Her head snaps up in my direction and she nods quickly before leaving again. 

So… I’m… going on vacation… away from the district... and politics. I can do this. This isn’t so tough. 

Sam walks into my office later looking at me expectantly.

I sigh. “So where the hell am I supposed to go?”

He smiles at my misfortune and near breakdown. “Anywhere you’d like. Although it’s November, so I suggest someplace warm.”

I think about this for a second and I have absolutely no thoughts. I’ve spent the last year traveling the country, where the hell’s left? I run my hands through my hair and stand up, staring at my desk. “We want Miller for Secretary of Defense. Not Swayne. Miller. I don’t care what his arguments are. Miller.”

“Got it.”

I look up at him. “Try to keep him out of the Kazakhstan mess and whatever you do, don’t let him and Barry choose a vice-president. Barry’s here for transition. Keep him out of staffing issues.”

“Barry Goodwin?”

I nod. “And if either one of them mentions Amy Gardner for any reason, remind them that she might be Satan.”

“Absolutely,” he says with a deep nod.

I look around for a piece of paper, circling completely. My office is a mess, when did that happen? I finally pull a note card out of the top drawer and start scribbling topics down. “Otto needs to start working on the inaugural address right away,” I say, handing Sam a few topics for him to start on. “He needs help. He’s… rough around the edges.”

Sam looks over the note card. “He wrote the acceptance speech?” he asks, looking up at me. I nod. “It wasn’t bad. He just needs practice.”

“I have a call into Annabeth Schott. You need…”

“Press secretary. I know.”

I pick up my book bag and put it on my desk. “She might need convincing. She’d prefer media director.”

“If I can’t convince her, I’ll convince her to wait a week so you can convince her.”

“No,” I say, shoving a few files into the book bag. “I need her here now. I don’t want Lou briefing the press. She’s mean to them.”

“Donna can brief while you’re gone.”

I shake my head as I put my blackberry in my pocket. “She’ll be with me.” I take it back out of my pocket and stare at it. “Should I…” I look up at him. “Should I take this or leave it here?”

He’s staring at me, but at my question, he looks down at my hand. “Leave it. Along with your laptop and book bag. What do you mean, she’ll be with you?”

Leave the book bag????? I stare at it for a second, almost like I’m saying goodbye to an old friend, then put it back on the floor. “I’m taking her with…” I completely forgot that he doesn’t know. Shit. Actually… no, not shit. I look up at him with a smile on my face. “I’m taking her with me. Once I, you know… ask her.”

He watches me for a second before glancing down and smiling. When he looks up at me, he nods slightly but I can tell that he wants to jump out of his skin and hug me. He’s very girly like that. “So you need to go someplace…”

“Where I can see her in a bathing suit. Preferably a two-piece,” I say, setting my blackberry down and walking to the door.

Sam follows me and we head towards the President-elect’s office. “Romantic is what you meant to say.”

As we pass Ronna’s desk, she hands me a piece of paper with an address two blocks from here. “Yes, that too.” I hold up the piece of paper. “I’m going to a travel agency after I tell him.”

“You want me to come. Help you pick out something?”

I come to a stop in the hallway and stare at him strangely. “No! I want you to hire a press secretary and convince him to appoint Miller to the cabinet!”

He nods several times. “Right.”

********** 

I walk out of the President-elect’s office feeling a like a load’s been lifted while at the same time feeling rather foolish for having that little rant about life and happiness in front of him. I walk through the outer office and just before I leave and go into the hallway towards Donna’s office, I turn around and look back at Ronna, Otto, and a few others, all carefully avoiding me.

“Otto’s going to be working on the inaugural speech with Sam for the next week. The rest of you need to cover for him out here.”

Otto, who has refused to make eye contact with me since ‘the incident,’ looks up startled. “I am?”

I nod. “I gave Sam some topics for you to work on over the next week. He’s the best speech writer you’ll ever meet. Learn from him.” He nods enthusiastically.

I pause for a second before leaving, then walk down the hall to the press area. Donna’s on the phone and holds a finger up to me. I’m not real sure how to do this. ‘Hey, Sam’s making me go on vacation. You wanna come?’ That’s not the tone I’m looking for here.

I sit on the corner of her desk and half-listen to her conversation. “Of course Governor Baker’s on our list, I’m not denying that. But a decision hasn’t been… no. Not that I’m… hold on.” She puts her hand over the receiver and looks at me. “We still have Carol Gelsy on the VP list, right?”

“Yeah. And Jeff Phillips.”

“Kay. Did you need something?”

“I wanted…” I can’t ask her on vacation while she’s on the phone with the press! “Can you be at my place in forty-five minutes?”

Her eyes widen and she looks down at her watch. “It’s three-thirty.”

“Yes.”

She stares at me for just a second. “Sure,” she answers with a confused look. I nod and stand up and she goes back to her call. “Carol Gelsy’s still on the list. And so is Jeff Phillips. I’m telling you Jeff, we haven’t made a decision.”

********** 

A bell sounds over my head as I walk into Omega World Travel two blocks from the OEOB. A young woman wearing a weird looking phone contraption looks up at me and smiles, but continues talking on the phone. I walk around looking at posters on the wall and brochures on the counter. I don’t understand the person who does this sort of thing, just puts aside a week of his life to do nothing. It’s foreign to me.

I pick up a brochure for NCL. It’s… a cruise line apparently. There’s a picture of blue water and white sand on the front, with a ship out in the water. I look at it for a minute and set it down, then pick up another that says Vegas in rude looking florescent letters. I put that down immediately and pick up a third that has a picture of Mickey Mouse on it. “May I help you?”

I look over at the phone on her head girl. “I uhh… have to go on vacation.”

She smiles. “Have to?”

“Uhh… want to. I guess.”

“Ok.” She stands up and walks to where I’m standing. “You’re interested in a trip to Disney World?”

I must look at her like she has a third eye because she looks down at the brochure in my hands. “Oh, I just… I was just… looking at things.”

She smiles at me. “Where would you like to go?”

My eyes widen a little. It’s a little sad at how completely unprepared I am for this conversation. “Someplace warm probably.”

“So you want to go soon then, I take it. Sometime this winter?”

“No. Sometime today.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I have… want… to go today.”

“Today?”

“Or tonight.”

“So…” She thinks I’m a nutcase. “Someplace warm at the last minute. Florida, maybe?”

“With the republicans?” I ask in an appalled manner. 

This obviously confuses her, but she continues. “Or… maybe someplace in the Caribbean?”

“Like… where in the Caribbean?”

She nods. “St. Thomas or St. Croix. Or the Cayman Islands maybe?”

“Ok,” I say, shrugging. “Which one?” Is there a difference?

“Well, would you like something with a lot of night life? Bars, clubs, topless beaches, duty-free shopping? Or would you prefer something more… secluded? Private beaches, less crowds, maybe a little more romantic?”

“Romantic,” I blurt out. “And… secluded is good too. But… she’ll probably want to sight see and maybe shop a little; buy those stupid little shell necklaces and stuff like that. And maybe one of those things you… you know… tie around your waist when you’re wearing a bathing suit. Like the woman on that…” I turn around and point to a poster I glanced at when I walked in. ‘Hawaiian Beaches: Like No Place on Earth.’ I look back at the woman. “What about Hawaii?”

“Hawaii?”

“She’d like Hawaii. Volcanos, water falls, Pearl Harbor… I don’t know, other things. Can we go there tonight?”

She nods. “I’m sure there’s an evening flight out. Let’s check.”

I watch as she walks back to her desk. “And is there… you know… romance and seclusion and beaches and stuff there?”

She bits back a smile. “Hawaii’s a series of islands. They have a few beaches.”

“Right. But…”

“Yes, we can do romantic and secluded.”

“And nice? Really nice? Like… you’re the one and I don’t really know what else I’m supposed to be figuring out nice?”

She looks up at me. “You’re really bad at this.”

“Yes.”

She nods. “Just sit down and let me take it from here.”

********** 

When the cab drops me off at home, it’s 4:30. My car is parked out front, so Donna’s here. I pick up the stack of brochures for the hotel and islands that Arlene gave me and the two plane tickets, which are really just confirmation numbers in airplane ticket sleeves but serve my purpose just as well. Then I reach for my book bag, which leads to a brief moment of panic before I remember that it’s not supposed to be there. Right. 

I pay the cab fare and walk up the steps to my building and into my apartment where Donna immediately calls out to me, “Want a beer?”

I walk into the kitchen and see her pulling two out of the fridge. “We don’t have time for a beer.”

She looks up at me with a hint of hidden disappointment on her face. “Oh, I thought…” She pauses and collects herself. “We’re going back to work?”

I shake my head slowly and hand her the stack of brochures. “Those are for you.”

She looks down at them and then back up at me. “For what?”

“To read.”

“You want me to read about Hawaiian tourism?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

And this is it, the big moment. I carefully and slowly place the tickets into her hand on top of her pile of brochures. “So we know what to do once we get there.”

She looks at the tickets and then up at me and then back at the tickets. “We’re…” and then back up at me with a smile. “We’re going to Hawaii?”

I smile. “Yes.”

Her smile widens, making her eyes look more innocent. “When?” she asks excitedly. 

“Our plane leaves at seven.”

The smile disappears and shock registers. “In the morning?”

“No.”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “You scared me.”

“Tonight.”

“What?” she asks, panic and surprise apparent in her voice.

“There’s no time to panic, we have to pack.”

“We… but…”

I take a step closer to her and kiss her lightly. “Let’s go figure us out, Donna.”


	8. A Calming Presence

A gentle crashing sound wakes me from a deep sleep. For a moment, I think it's my dishwasher. I blink a few times and realize where I am. 

I'm in Hawaii. With Josh.

And it's not my dishwasher making those noises. It's waves, crashing against the shore.

My heart swells in my chest, and I'm happy to say it's becoming a familiar feeling.

I turn my head and see Josh lying on his side, staring at me. One of his arms is above my head, and the other is tucked close to his chest.

"Morning," he says in a husky voice.

"Good morning." I pull my arm out from under the sheets and run the back of my fingers down his jaw line. "I thought we agreed to sleep for a few more hours."

He smiles lazily at me. "I can't look at you with my eyes closed."

This earns him a kiss. A big, wet kiss. I turn on my side so that we're facing each other. Josh slings his arm over my waist, and I play with the hair at the base of his neck.

"You have six more days of looking at me all day." I smile. "My face might get kind of boring after a while."

"Never." He cranes his neck to kiss my lips ever so lightly.

I'll never get tired of these little kisses. They're incredibly intimate and...new. Josh and I did things a little backwards. We had passionate sex three times and made love once. I guess that's what I'd call it – making love. Not that we've used the word 'love' before. It was totally different than the other times. It was slow and easy and dreamy. Each of the four times was fabulous in its own way, but we never shared little kisses like this. It's a shame because they're really nice.

A few minutes pass, then Josh looks towards the window. "Sun's up."

I look at the clock. "As it should be at noon."

He chuckles.

We didn't have time to explore the property last night. Well, technically this morning. Both of us were utterly exhausted. We checked in, came to our room, and went to sleep. I don't even know the name of the hotel much less the area we're in. Josh told me we were going to the sunny side of the Big Island, but he didn't give me details. I didn't care about details last night. All I cared about was that Josh had asked me to go with him on vacation.

Vacation.

Neither of us has had time off in years. The last vacation I took was spring break my freshman year at Wisconsin. A few of us went to Panama City, Florida. Come to think of it, that's the last time I was on the beach. I have a feeling I'll see fewer scantily dressed co-eds scrounging the beach for one night stands. Judging by the palatial and well-decorated room we're in, I highly doubt anyone will ask me if I want to try a keg stand or a bong hit.

"Remind me where we are." I only read one of the five brochures Josh handed me before we left for the airport last night.

"Does it really matter?" he asks, kissing the side of my mouth.

"No, but it would be informative." I turn my head enough to kiss him squarely on the mouth.

We seem to have sailed right past the awkward phase of our relationship as we crossed time zones. In DC, things were becoming more comfortable, but here even in these few hours, it's like a different world. We're touching and kissing without hesitation.

"We're on the Kohala Coast of the Big Island." He leans back and uses his pillow to prop his head higher. "The travel agent said it was the perfect combination of seclusion, romance, and fun."

"Romance?"

He nods. "You know, beaches, mai tais, leis, sunsets."

I've never heard Josh's definition of romance before, but I'm perfectly satisfied with his answer.

"The hotel's called The Orchid," he says. "It's always mentioned in a popular travel magazine. Conor Nate or something."

"Conde Nast?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Yeah." He turns his head towards me. "Apparently, it's one of the top resorts in the Pacific."

I look around the room and realize we're in a suite. There are French doors that lead to a living room, and I can see the white and beige plush furniture. The armoire and dresser in the bedroom look antique, and the king-sized four post bed is magnificent. The sheets must be at least 400-thread count. I snuggle into them a littler further. The room smells like tuberose, which makes sense because there are two tuberose leis on the bench at the foot of the bed.

"I can see why, and we haven't even left the room." I smile.

He scratches his head. "It's pretty impressive."

"It is." I sit up and the sheets slip down, revealing my breasts. "I'm going to take a shower."

Josh's eyes zero in, but he doesn't comment. He just sort of stares. "Before we go to the beach?"

"You know how I feel about airplane funk."

"Maybe I should take one too." He looks up at me with hopeful eyes. 

I try to keep the smile off my face. "You could probably use one."

Instead of getting out on my side of the bed, I swing one leg over Josh, bringing my naked body very close to his. Josh's hands immediately grab hold of my waist. He kisses me while I slowly drag my other leg over him and crawl out of bed. I'm standing next to the bed, and Josh has gotten on his knees to face me. Our lips are fused together. I put my arms around him, pulling him closer and stepping back. He eventually stands in front of me and drags me into the bathroom.

"Wow," I say.

"We're pretty good at that, aren't we?" He smirks.

"Yes, we are." I smile. "But I was commenting on the bathroom."

It's all white and gray marble from top to bottom. There's a Jacuzzi tub and a separate shower enclosed by two tall panels of glass. The two sinks are flanked by Aveda products. I open a bottle of Chakra III Equipoise body wash.

"Mmm. Smell this."

Josh sniffs it. "Nice."

He opens the shampoo and conditioner and smells each one, offering them to me, while I open the body lotion.

"I love this place already," I say.

We spend at least 30 minutes in the shower, lavishing each other's bodies with the bath products and laughing at ourselves for doing so. There's a lot of kissing and fondling, all under the guise of washing. I've never showered with Josh before, and it's something I quite enjoy. In fact, I think it might be something I'd like to do every day for the rest of my life.

When the water gets cold, I dry off with a thick white towel and consider stealing one for my own bathroom. They're awfully nice. Josh dries my hair while I kiss his nipples. His delicious, pink, manly nipples.

"I'm going to get dressed for the beach," I say in between kisses.

"Dressed for the beach?" He emphasizes the first word.

"You know, put on my swimsuit and sarong."

I don't think he has any idea what a sarong is, but he looks like he at least appreciates the idea of me in a swimsuit.

Last night as we waited for our flight from LAX to Hawaii, Josh and I raided the only store open in the airport. Although the choices were limited, I bought a red bikini, a sheer white sarong, and a tank top. I tried on a pair of flip flops, but they hurt the minute I began walking. I figured I'd buy a pair today. Josh fared a little better. He brought a pair of khaki shorts from home and the only two polos he owns – one black, one white. He couldn't find his swimsuit at his apartment or remember if he even owned one, so he bought one at the airport store.

"I didn't bring sunscreen," I say.

Josh pulls on the blue Hawaiian-looking swimming trunks. "I'll go get some at the store downstairs."

"You sure?" I ask.

"Yeah." He throws a gray t-shirt over his head. "Do we need anything else?"

"Find out about snorkeling and maybe kayaking." I brush my wet hair.

I watch Josh's eyebrows rise in the mirror. "Kayaking?"

"You know, paddling in a little boat." I turn to face him.

"I've never, you know, kayaked before." He almost looks frightened.

I shrug. "Neither have I, but it might be fun."

"Paddling doesn't sound all that relaxing." Josh smirks. "It sounds strenuous. I plan on using my energy for other things."

"Other things?" I tease.

He nibbles on my bare collarbone. "Yeah. Other things."

This leads to another round of heavy petting and kissing. Josh is once again in a state of near undress. I didn't intend to take off his shirt, but his chest is underneath that shirt and it begs to be kissed.

"Ok," he says, finally releasing me with one last kiss. "I'm going to the store."

He walks out of the bathroom.

"Don't forget about the kayaking," I yell.

I hear him grumbling before the door closes behind him.

As I put my hair into a high ponytail and slip into my new bikini, I think about the past 24 hours. Just two nights ago, we got into an argument to the point where I left. That wasn't my best move, and I regret it. But Josh and I are starting to communicate better. His apology was sincere and heartfelt. For the first time, I got the sense the he really wants to make this thing between us work. In the past, it felt like figuring out what was happening between us was too much work. And it still is going to require some talking. We can't go from sex to marriage in the span of a week.

I walk into the living room and open the curtains. The sight before me is breathtaking. Our suite faces the swimming pool and ocean. Josh must be paying a fortune for this room. I open the sliding glass door and step onto the balcony. The cement is cold to my bare feet, but the sun beating down on my face is warm. Really warm. I gaze out into the distance, then close my eyes and listen to the waves crashing against the shore. If peace has a sound, this is it.

The thud of a door closing startles me. I turn around to find Josh standing in the small foyer with his mouth hanging open. He drops a plastic container that appears to be full of pineapple chunks.

"I brought fruit," he says, still staring.

I walk into the living room and stoop to pick up the container. Josh bends down at the same time, and the bag that was on his arm falls to the ground. A tube of sunscreen and two bottles of water fall out. 

"You're carrying too much stuff." I lean over to pick up the fruit, but Josh has his mouth pressed against mine before I'm able to do anything.

His hands run from my hips to my back and around my neck. His lips don't stray from my mouth. I spend the first minute or so in a haze, simply enjoying the kiss. It isn't until we stop to catch our breath that I realize the reason why Josh might've kissed me so passionately.

My bikini. My very red, very flimsy bikini.

During the four times that we've had sex, I've discovered that both Josh and I are generous lovers. While he may currently have the upper hand in sexual generosity, that will not always be the case. I remove his t-shirt, then wiggle my way down his body, stopping every inch to kiss a new piece of exposed skin. When I get to the waistband of his swimming trunks, I look up at him sprawled on the hard marble floor.

"That can't be comfortable," I comment.

He lifts his head. "I could be lying on a bed of nails without complaint if you keep doing what you're doing."

I take him by the hand and lead him to the nearest soft surface, which happens to be the sofa.

Now, where was I? Yes, his waistband. I untie the drawstring and rub my fingernails under his shorts, slowly loosening the string. I kiss a trail down his belly from his navel to the patch of hair just above his shorts.

Josh moans and takes a few deep breaths.

When the material is loose enough, I pull his swimming trunks down until they bunch at his ankles. I look up and he gulps. After a few wet kisses on Josh's inner thigh, I take him into my mouth very slowly. His hands fly to my hair, and he mumbles something unintelligible.

We haven't had sex yet, and Josh has been hard or semi-hard since we woke up. I figure this little treat won't last long. However, I'm enjoying it immensely. Not only do I like the way Josh feels and tastes, but I also love the sounds he's making. It's turning me on more than I thought possible.

"Donna," he says in a deep, throaty voice while moving my head up and down.

I do something I've never done before and never thought I'd do: I swallow. I've always considered it unnecessary and rather gross. Never in a million years did I think I'd actually enjoy it.

Josh's orgasm is astounding. It's the longest one he's had yet, and he's not so silent. When he's done, I draw myself back up his body and sit next to him.

"Ohmygod," he says, breathing heavily. "I mean, oh my God."

I smile a very big smile at him. "I'd say that just about covers it."

"Wow."

That's the second time he's 'wowed' after sex. If you consider oral  
sex, sex.

I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heart pounding. He puts one hand on the back of my head and the other over my hand.

"That was..."

"Good?" I ask, grinning against his chest.

"Good?" He laughs. "It was far better than good. Amazing wouldn't be too big a word to describe it. Is there a word better than 'amazing?' Cause if there is, that's what it was."

I giggle and lift my head. "I'm glad you enjoyed."

"I very much enjoyed." He smirks.

I get up and go into the bathroom. It isn't until I'm in front of the mirror that I realize my bikini top is gone. "Josh?"

"Yeah?"

I poke my head out and look at him slouched in the same position that I left him in. "Where's my top?"

He holds up the skimpy piece of red fabric and grins. "Right here."

I shake my head and smile. We've done a lot of smiling today. I could get used to it.

I gargle with the complimentary mouthwash, then brush my teeth. When I go back into the living room, Josh is lying on his stomach with his shorts back on.

"Sleepy?" I run my fingers through his hair.

"Mmm hmm." He turns his head towards me. "You wore me out."

"Good." I grab a chenille throw from the back of the armchair and place it over him.

After our fight two days ago, I feel the need to remind him I'm not going anywhere. "Take a nap. I'll be here when you wake up."

He nods, then kisses the back of my hand.

When his eyes are shut and his breathing steadies, I pick up the mess at the front door. Fortunately, only two pieces of pineapple fell out of the container. I throw them away and eat another two chunks. I put the sunscreen and bottles of water on a side table, then dig in the bag to see what else Josh bought. Two pairs of Reef flip flops and some chapstick. I smile.

While Josh snores, I sit on the balcony and read the hotel information book and a magazine about things to do on the Big Island. I think Josh would like snorkeling. We'll definitely get massages in the Spa Without Walls. I dog-ear that page. Going for an evening sail on a catamaran sounds nice. So does star gazing, yoga, and night diving with manta rays. I'm not sure Josh would be too keen on swimming with sting rays, but it's worth a shot.

I close the magazine and throw my head back, enjoying the feel of sun on my face. I should put some sunscreen on even though I'm not on the beach. My cheeks are starting to burn. But I'm too lazy to move right now. Everything about this moment feels good. Josh is 15 feet away from me, sleeping soundly. I'm basking in the sun in a bikini and sarong. And Washington, DC is thousands of miles away.

I must've drifted off to sleep because Josh's voice startles me.

"Donna?" he calls from inside.

"Out here."

A minute later, Josh steps onto the balcony, rubbing his eyes. He has marks on his stomach from sleeping on the textured sofa.

"You slept," I say.

"I did." He stretches and yawns. "I *really* did. What time is it?"

"I have no idea." Which is a beautiful thing. Time doesn't matter on vacation.

He rubs his stomach. "I'm starving."

I lift the container of pineapple, which is almost empty. "Fruit?"

He breathes in a big whiff of air. "I smell barbeque."

"It's coming from down there." I point to a little hut next to the pool. There's a large barbeque pit in the back, and a man in a chef's hat is turning meat.

Josh steps to the edge of the balcony and puts his hands on the railing. "Are you hungry?"

I watch his triceps flex and lick my lips. I'm hungry indeed. "I could eat."

He turns around. "Let's go."

We eat like we haven't seen food in days. I can't remember the last time I had a bacon double cheeseburger with fries. We agree to drink milkshakes now and have fruity alcoholic drinks served in coconut shells at dinner. Afterwards, we walk around the property, admiring the view and the amenities. The hot tub catches my eye. It's an in- ground hot tub surrounded by black lava rocks. The floor is all sand. It almost looks like a natural spring.

"This is cool," Josh says, stepping into the water.

I follow him down the sloping sand bank until I'm up to my waist in steaming water. My muscles are going to thank me later. Josh removes his t-shirt and puts it next to my already discarded sarong. I will never get tired of staring at this man's chest, scar and all.

He pulls me by the hand and sits on the lava rock semi-circle bench. "Ahhh."

I sit as close as possible to him without actually being on top of him. We are, after all, in public.

"This feels so good." I lean back, mirroring Josh's position and closing my eyes.

We spend the next few hours relaxing in the hot tub, lying in a hammock, and walking through the Puako Petroglyph Preserve. Josh tells me stories about family vacations he took growing up, and I share a couple of my own.

Lying next to (or on top of) Josh is great, but it isn't until he holds my hand that I get that butterfly in the stomach, giddy as a school girl feeling in my stomach. There's something about holding hands that really hits home. For the first time, I allow myself to think of what a future with Josh Lyman would be like. If it involves holding hands, little kisses, and interesting conversations, I'm in it for the long haul.

The ultimate long haul.

Josh makes reservations at Brown's Beach House while I buy a sun dress from the hotel store. It's not the most flattering dress I've owned, but it's inexpensive and cute. I'm going to have to convince Josh to take me shopping in Kona tomorrow. Otherwise, I'll be in a business suit, a bathing suit, or this dress for the rest of our vacation.

It surprises me that work has yet to come up in our conversations. Not that I'm complaining, but both of our lives have been consumed with politics for years. Especially Josh's. I know *something* must be rattling around in his mind.

When we're seated at a prime table with an ocean view at dinner, I broach the subject.

"Congratulations on getting Sam on board." I smile.

"Thanks." He scoots his chair closer to the table. "He'll be incredible."

"He will." I nod. "Have you given any consideration to Annabeth as press secretary?"

"Yeah. She's my top choice."

We order two fruity drinks in coconut shells and place an order of fried calamari as an appetizer.

"What about Swayne?" I ask.

"I don't want to discuss work." Josh leans forward, taking my hand. "I'll have plenty of time to worry about that stuff when we're back."

I am utterly shocked. Josh doesn't want to talk about politics? I consider checking him for a fever.

"Ok," I reply. "But if you ever want to discuss it, even on this trip, I'd be ok with that."

He smiles one of those rare, toothy smiles at me. "Got it."

Dinner is unbelievably delicious. The drinks are really good, too. Josh stops me before ordering a third. "We'll get bloody marys in the morning."

He charges dinner to the room, takes me by the hand, and leads me upstairs. There's a predatory look in his eyes that he's had trouble masking all day.

As I take off my dress and put on Josh's gray t-shirt to sleep in, he plays one of the Hawaiian CDs that came with the room. I recognize it as Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. I walk out of the bathroom to find Josh looking out of the bedroom window. I put my arms around him, and he covers them with his hands.

"Look at this," he says. "It's amazing."

"It is."

He exhales a long breath. "Thank you for coming with me."

"Thank you for inviting me." I smile.

He turns around in my arms and his lips immediately find mine. It's funny how that works. We could be in a pitch black room, and I think we'd find each other's mouths without a problem.

My t-shirt is on for less than a minute, and my underwear is not far behind. I remove Josh's shirt and step back to admire his body in khaki pants and bare feet. He takes my hands in his and places kisses on the inside of my wrists. I can already tell this is going to be a very slow session of making love.

***  
We spend the following two days, lounging on the beach and snorkeling. Josh bought an underwater camera and is fascinated by the photos he took of giant sea turtles. We take an evening catamaran cruise and watch the sunset on the ocean. We didn't have a chance to go shopping, so I convince him to take me tomorrow. Although we're only here for two more nights, I need another bikini and sun dress. He could use some new pants. I have a mental picture of what he'd look like in white linen pants and a lime green shirt.

As we make our way into Kona for dinner, I spot a row of boutiques. I duck into one, while Josh seems content to explore the golf shop next door. There's also a book store and a jewelry store at the end, but I doubt we'll have time to go into either before our dinner reservations.

"What did you buy?" I ask, eyeing his bag.

"A couple of shirts and some pants."

"Linen?" I ask.

He nods. "White linen."

I never imagined he'd actually, you know, buy them. That was supposed to be a fantasy.

*  
On our second to last day on the Kohala Coast, I book an hour-long couple's massage for Josh and me. He's a little weirded out by the fact that we have to get naked for this, but I manage to convince him that everyone does it. Josh also isn't fond of the Hawaiian male masseuses. He might've even said something to mine about appropriate touching.

I've never had a massage like this. We're in an oceanfront cabana overlooking a koi pond. The sound of waves and the feel of the tradewinds are about as calming as it gets. Josh is right next to me, moaning every time the masseuse digs a little deeper. I think he has his eyes open most of the time making sure my masseuse isn't getting his kicks, but he's still enjoying it.

When the massage is over, the masseuses leave and Josh grabs my hand. "That was unbelievable."

I keep my eyes close and moan.

"You seem to have enjoyed it." I picture him smirking.

"I did." I'm surprised I can speak. "It was heavenly."

We lay there for a few more minutes before getting dressed in a robe and flip flops.

"You should get a manicure like the lady suggested," he tells me.

"You wouldn't mind?"

He shrugs. "Why would I mind?"

I kiss him on the lips. "Ok. I'll be back up before dinner."

"I was thinking of room service tonight," Josh says, rubbing my arms. "Maybe we could eat on the balcony."

I smile. "Sounds good."

He looks at me with this penetrating stare that I've never seen before. It's not passionate or tender. It's like he's trying desperately to memorize every detail of this moment.

"I'll see you in a few," he says.

I walk back to the Spa Without Walls for my manicure and pedicure, while Josh takes care of plans for our last night in Hawaii. A large part of me is sad to leave. Things here have been so different from life in DC. Everything moved so slowly and methodically. We never had to worry about time. Josh and I were free to kiss when we wanted to kiss and talk about things we'd never discussed in all our years knowing each other. It has been the most refreshing break of my life.

I take a shower in the spa and put on the sundress that I bought yesterday. I notice that my shoulders are sunburned, but my arms are tan. My nose is a little red, but my face has fared well considering my alabaster skin.

When I enter our room, there are two lamps on in the living room and a sliver of light coming from the bedroom. The balcony door is wide open and the breeze is blowing the sheer drapes into the room. I can smell the salt air and hear the waves crashing.

Something on the coffee table catches my eye. Just this morning, it was covered with Hawaiian brochures and magazines. I take a few steps closer until I realize there's only one thing on the table: an open box.

A little black velvet box.

I blink several times, trying to gain control over what certainly must be my imagination. I reach down and take out the most beautiful antique diamond ring I've ever seen.

"I needed four minutes, not four weeks."

I spin around to find Josh leaning against the bedroom doorframe with his hands in the pockets of his white linen pants. 

"Josh." I put my hand over my chest.

"Four seconds, really." He gives me a dimpled grin.

I'm having a hard time keeping it together. If I don't blink, I  
won't cry.

"And I thought we could, you know, get married." Josh takes a few steps closer, then removes the ring from my hand. It's amazing that he can manage a swagger in just three steps. "We could wait a week or so if you want to," he adds.

The man goes from sweet to cocky in a matter of seconds. Is it strange that it turns me on?

I raise my eyebrows, but a smile is tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Could we?"

He nods. "Sure. I'm flexible like that."

I slide my hands up his chest until they rest on his shoulders. "And what if I don't want to wait a week?"

He smirks. "I'm free tomorrow."

I pretend to think about it for a second while running my fingertips over the back of his neck. "We'd have to cancel the surfing lessons."

He puts his arms around my waist. "I'm ok with that."

Josh slips the ring on my finger before kissing me soundly on the mouth. When I pull back, I cup his face in my hands and stare into his eyes. This is the moment I've waited for my whole life. I didn't know who it would be, but nine years ago, I wished it to be the man in front of me right now.

It doesn't really surprise me that we've gone from friends to lovers to…this in such a short amount of time. We don't need a long courtship or a dating plan. Going to the movies with Josh wouldn't make me love him any more than I do now. It also wouldn't help us come to this decision any faster. I know this man inside and out, and he knows me just the same.


	9. A Calming Presence

The first day of our vacation consisted of a lot of sleeping. I honestly hadn’t realized just how tired I was until I had nothing else to do, but then it all seemed to hit me at once and I napped in bed, in a hammock, and on the couch. The day also consisted of a few other things I don’t do on a regular basis, including showering with Donna, taking a walk for no reason, and sitting in a hot tub. There was also some oral sex in which Donna proved that even after nine years of knowing her, I have no idea what she’s capable of. 

I wish I could say that I was able to let work go completely that first day, but I know well that when something’s ingrained into your life so deeply, you can’t just forget it completely. I learned that the hard way when Donna quit last year. Still, I managed not to bring work up, even when it was on the tip of my tongue. And that was nice, not discussing politics. I can’t remember the last time I went a whole day without doing that.

On the second day we snorkeled. I bought an underwater camera and Donna laughed at me when she saw me with the tube thing sticking out of my mouth. I doubted it looked as strange as she did wearing that very red, very small swimsuit and those gigantic flippers, but I chose not to say anything about it. I did, however, take a few pictures of her from under the water on the off-chance that I need collateral some day. I also took some awesome pictures of two giant sea turtles that we encountered that afternoon. Donna told me I reminded her of a five year-old, and for just a second, I pictured us there with a five year-old little boy which didn’t freak me out as much as I thought it probably should.

By the third day, when I overheard a conversation between an elderly man and his wife, both of them clearly confused about how the VP process was going to work, I wasn’t even tempted to explain it to them. Donna and I were on the beach in front of the hotel and Donna was reading “In Cold Blood,” by Truman Capote while I napped off and on next to her. I hadn’t even budged and a few seconds later, I felt Donna’s fingers tracing up and down my arms. 

It was the fourth day, while Donna was trying to convince me that swimming with the manta rays was a good idea, that I wished for the first time that we could stay in Hawaii forever and forget all about politics and schedules and doing anything that didn’t include touching each other. I’d never, not even in school, not wanted politics to be part of my life, but right then, with her excited eyes and her pink nose and her hair blowing in the breeze, politics meant so very little.

That night, as we walked to dinner, I brought up politics. I’d been thinking about it while she showered for dinner, and I wondered if she’d made any decisions. So I asked her; I asked if she was going to accept Mrs. Santos’ offer. I remember it because she paused in her step. It was almost imperceptible, but I’ve been walking with her for nine years; I know her walk. So I reached over and took her hand and after a few seconds she asked what I thought she should do. Part of me wanted to tell he to be my deputy press secretary, that we’d find a way to make that work, but she didn’t ask what I wanted, she asked what she should do, and those were very different questions. So I told her she should decide for herself, but that if working for me was too close, maybe working in the east wing would be just far enough away without being too far.

But it was this afternoon, after a man massaged me while another massaged Donna right next to me, when Donna stayed downstairs for a manicure and who knows what else and I went back into Kona to buy her a necklace or something that would show her that this wasn’t just a vacation for me and she wasn’t just the woman I brought along, that it hit me. 

Right next to the necklaces in the jewelry store we’d passed the night before were engagement rings. And when the man behind the counter asked what I wanted to see, I found myself pointing down to them instead of the necklaces. Because I didn’t need to figure out what I wanted, I already knew. I’d known for ages. I can’t remember a time that I didn’t think, at least on some level, that I’d end up with Donna. Maybe marriage and kids didn’t specifically enter my mind, but growing old with her certainly did. Having her by my side certainly did. Loving her certainly did. And if this trip was supposed to be an escape from work and reality, maybe instead it served as an escape from work to show me reality. Because for those months that she was apart from me this year, work wasn’t enough. I was miserable. But that hasn’t been the case this week. Without work, she is enough. She makes me happy.

So I bought a ring and I took it back to the hotel and I proposed. And then I made love to her and when we got hungry enough, we ate pancakes in bed for dinner and I sucked syrup out of her belly button, which was… really, really hot. And now I’m watching her sleep in my arms.

********** 

I start to wake-up when I feel Donna’s body weight on top of me, and I put my hands around her waist and hold her close to me without opening my eyes. Then she starts kissing me all over my face; quick little kisses that make me smile and destroy my pretense of still being asleep.

“It’s time to wake up,” she practically sings before moving her head and kissing me the same way on my chest. 

“No… it’s time to sleep,” I mumble as I rub my hands up and down her back.

“We have a very busy day today.”

“Please don’t make me surf,” I say, rolling us onto our sides but still refusing to wake up.

She kisses my neck and nibbles on my earlobe. “Kay. You sleep.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“We’ll just get married some other time.” 

This does it and my eyes open wide. I’m getting married today! 

Donna’s propped up on an elbow smiling at me. “I thought you wanted to sleep,” she says innocently.

I lean over and kiss her properly, finding that she’s brushed her teeth. “You’ve been up?”

She nods. “I’ve showered and talked to the wedding coordinator about the license.”

I squint my eyes. “We have a wedding coordinator? Already? How late did I sleep?”

She laughs a little. “The hotel has one and when I called the concierge this morning, he put me in touch with her and she got us an appointment to get our license at eleven.” I prop myself up on an elbow as well, so I’m at her level and I just look at her for a minute until her smile fades and she looks down at the sheets. “You were just kidding about today,” she says quietly.

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have… I got…”

“Donna,” I say softly, but she doesn’t look up at me. I lean in and kiss her forehead. “I wasn’t kidding about today.”

She looks up at me. “But… you were looking at me like…”

“I was staring at the beautiful woman I’m about to marry.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Oh.”

I grin at her. “I’m allowed to do that now.”

“You are?”

I pick up her hand and kiss her knuckles, speaking in a much more serious voice. “I spent too long making myself look away.”

She brings her free hand up and places her palm on my cheek, then leans in and kisses me very softly, and after a second, I pull her flush to my body and roll us again so that she’s underneath me, deepening the kiss.

“This isn’t conducive to our busy day,” she says when we part minutes later.

“Sure it is.”

“How so?”

“You tell me what you discussed with the coordinator, I’ll do the kissing.”

“I see,” she says giggling as I attach myself to her neck. “They have eight outdoor wedding sites here at the hotel, but we have to pick one before we leave to…” she makes a little sound and breathes heavier for a second. I’m so good. “…get the license. We also have to… no marks,” she says as I nip a bit at her collarbone. “I don’t want a hickey in my wedding photos.” 

“Sorry,” I mumble against her skin.

“We have to pick out the flowers and the flavors for the cake if we want them done in time, and she’s checking to see… that feels… nice… if she can… get a photographer and videographer on such short notice.”

“Mmm hmm…”

“And we… we’re getting married at six.”

“Sounds good,” I mumble, kissing across her jaw to her lips. She kisses me back for a second and then lightly pushes me away.

“You need to shower and we need to get back down there.”

“But… everything’s almost done and we have till six,” I pathetically whine.

She climbs out from underneath me and gets out of bed, then starts tugging on my arm to get me up. “Nothing’s almost done. We have a wedding time and an appointment to get our license. That’s not even close to everything. I need a dress, you need a ring… most people take a year to do what we’re trying to do in a day.”

“But most people don’t have you organizing it.”

She tilts her head and smiles a little. “That’s very true.” Then she looks back at me with a determined look in her eyes. “Get up.”

I suddenly flashback to a few years ago, when she grabbed me by the ear and dragged me down the hallway in the White House. “I’m up.”

********** 

I mostly just sit and nod while Donna and the coordinator, Cathy, discuss the wedding, although I do help choose the cake flavors so we don’t get something weird like lemon poppy seed. What the hell kind of cake is that? You get five measly choices and that’s one of them? We end up with chocolate Viennese and white, and due to the short notice, it’ll be frosted and then have real flowers on it instead of fancy icing. Whatever, it’s big enough to feed twenty and I guarantee Donna won’t let me have more than two pieces. What do I care what’s on top of it?

Cathy makes Donna an appointment with the hotel stylist to have her hair done for the ceremony. Donna will have a bouquet of orchids and other Hawaiian flowers, but other than that, we’re flowerless. Donna decides that we’re going music-less too, as well as shoe-less, which is very cool and Hawaiian like. Cathy was able to find a photographer and videographer, which is good since our parents are going to be furious with us. Other than that, Cathy doesn’t need us for anything. We just have to be at the Coconut Grove beach site at six.

Getting the license is easy. Hawaii doesn’t require blood tests or anything crazy, so we just pay sixty bucks and fill out a little paper work, and then we go back to the jewelry store to get a ring for me. We go with a simple platinum band to match her platinum ring, which feels a little strange to wear, but is ok since it’s for Donna. After that, we pick up a white shirt to go with my white pants, and then Donna sends me back to the hotel so she can dress shop. When she comes back from her shopping/hair adventure, she yells to me from the hallway and makes me wait on the balcony until she’s in the bathroom, then tells me to get dressed and leave.

I put on the white pants and shirt, rolling up the pants legs a little and leaving the shirt untucked, then tame my hair as much as possible and start leave. But when I walk to the bathroom door to tell her I’m going, I start worrying. I dress better than this for work and she said it herself this morning; most people take a year to do this. It feels like I’m stealing something from her. “Donna.”

“Yeah?” she asks distractedly through the door.

“Is this ok?”

“Is what ok? I can’t see you.”

“No, I mean… this. This wedding. Is it ok that we’re doing it like this?”

There’s a pause and I hang my head waiting for her answer. “So suddenly, you mean? Or so small?”

“Either. Both. It’s not just small, it’s…”

“Simple,” she finishes for me.

“Yeah. I just… Am I ruining your wedding? Should we have done a church, a thousand people, a huge cake, a…”

“Absolutely not,” she says firmly.

I sigh. “You should have the wedding of your dreams, Donna.”

There’s silence and then the bathroom door opens and Donna stands there looking... I can’t even put words to it. She smiles softly at me. “This is the wedding of my dreams, Josh.”

I keep staring at her, soaking her in. I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life. Her hair is down and has tiny little white and red and peach flowers scattered through it and her dress is simple and flowing and doesn’t show anything off or cling to anything, or even have a train thing, but is stunning just the same. She has lip gloss on instead of lipstick and her pink cheeks make her look beautiful and young and innocent. I’m blown away. “You’re so beautiful,” I say quietly.

Her smile widens and she stands there beaming at me. “Thank you.”

“This isn’t good enough for you. You should have… I don’t know. Ten bridesmaids and a big church and flowers everywhere.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “But I’d rather get married barefoot on a beach with my hair in the wind and my fiancé’s pant legs rolled up to his ankles. We do formal all the time Josh. I want this to be sweet and simple and private.” 

“Your dad’s not even here to walk you down the aisle.”

“He would’ve been if I’d called him last night and asked him to come,” she says with a small shrug. “I wanted it to be you and me. If I’d had a year to plan this, it’d be exactly the same.” 

I look at her, trying to read her face, but I don’t see anything there but happiness and a sunburn. “You’re sure?”

She nods and slips her fingers into mine. “Take me downstairs and marry me, Josh.”

So I do. We walk down to the beach together and get married while the water washes over our feet and the sun comes over the cliffs in the distance and sets over the water. And I know that when we get home, Donna will tell people how beautiful and how perfect it was. But none of it compared to her standing next to me. 

********** 

We both sleep off and on during the flight home, and it’s not until she’s napping on the flight from LA to DC that I read the Post for the first time all week. The headline reads, “China and Russia Agree to Talk,” and although I don’t know what happened or even what exactly it means, I’m thrilled at even the remote possibility of not having to be bogged down by this mess.

When we land, we take a cab home and walking in the door is an immediate reminder of the chaos that surrounds our life. We’re too tired to deal with it now though, so we maneuver around the clutter and fall into bed.

When the alarm goes off at seven, there’s no more denying it. We have to go back to work. I turn it off quickly and jump into the shower, having learned early on that Donna takes long ones. A few minutes later, Donna comes into the bathroom and sits on the toilet seat.

“We’re going to have to talk about the apartment.”

“Cleaning it or decorating it?”

“At this point I’d settle for being able to walk through it without injuring myself.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It is actually. I just tripped on a shoe and fell.” 

I open the end of the curtain and look out at her. She’s naked. “Are you ok?”

She fake pouts a little. “It hurt really badly.”

The corners of my mouth quirk up and I open the curtain a little wider, inviting her in. “Maybe I should kiss it and make it better.”

She nods slowly, fake-pout still in place, and stands up. “You probably better.”

Donna claims she can’t remember which part exactly was hurt during her ‘fall’, so I kiss every where to make sure I get it all. This is when I learn that my shower is conducive for sex of the oral kind. There’s a little seat in there… it comes in handy. By the time we get out of the apartment, it’s ten after eight. I can’t remember the last time I went into work this late, but I find that I like it. 

It’s kind of hard to not touch Donna as we walk into the office. I’m thinking this will fade eventually, but for now the touching is new and exciting and it’s really her fault for being so damn soft. Still, we manage to part in the hallway with a smile and I head into the mini bullpen that leads to my office. Ronna and Otto are there and I say a jovial good morning and head inside where I find that my office is clean. Otto follows me in and hands me a call sheet about a mile long. “Sam and Lou took care of the rest.”

I glance over the list and set it down on the desk. “Where is Sam this morning?”

“He’s interviewing Jackson Taylor for Legislative Director.”

I can only hope this means the notion of Amy for the job has been put to rest. “Who else has he interviewed?”

“Larry Jacobs and Ed Matthews.”

I walk around my desk and sit down. “Amy Gardner?”

“No. Should I…”

“No!” I say quickly. “No,” I say again. “Is the President-elect here?”

He shakes his head. “He’s at the White House.”

I raise my eyebrows. “He knows that’s not his office yet, right?”

Otto smiles. “I’m not sure. He wants to see you and Sam when he gets back.”

I nod. “How’s the speech coming?”

He pauses and hands me a small stack of papers. “I haven’t started on healthcare, but education, welfare, and lobby reform are pretty strong.”

I start flipping through the pages. “Sam’s looked at these?”

“Many, many times.”

I nod and look up. Sam’s standing in the doorway. “Ok,” I say, turning back to Otto. “Let us know when he gets back.”

Otto nods and leaves, passing Sam as he walks in. “Ed and Larry?” I ask with a smile.

He ignores me. “You look tan.”

“A week on a beach will do that to you.”

He smiles. “And where was this beach?”

“Hawaii.”

“Very nice,” he says nodding. “Did Donna have a good time?”

“She did indeed.”

“Even though you were there?”

“She sees the charm others miss. Make sure you make fun of her this morning. Her nose is peeling and she’s not happy about it.”

He nods once. “Will do. What’d you do in Hawaii?”

My eyes widen a little bit and it occurs to me that Donna and I haven’t discussed how we’re going to handle telling people. “Funny you should mention that.” I stand up and look dumbly down at him, then walk to the door. “Otto, can you tell Donna I need her, please.” He nods, trying not to smile and picks up his phone as I turn back to Sam. “I’m guessing people figured out…”

“You were both missing. It didn’t take much.”

“Right.” I look out the door again and then back at Sam.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I just… no. Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s great, actually.”

“Then what…” he stops when Donna walks into my office and a huge smile comes over his face. “Hi!”

I shut the door and he stands up and hugs her, and since it’s Sam, it’s ok. Mostly. They do the typical ‘I’ve missed you, you look good’ spiel, and then she turns to me and I can’t help smiling like an idiot.

“Did you need something?” My mind instantaneously fills with things I need but can’t have here in the office. But I figure one small kiss behind closed doors is ok, so I lean in and kiss her quickly in a way that probably won’t make Sam puke.

“Sam asked what we did in Hawaii,” I say when I pull back.

She looks at me strangely for a second before it dawns on her what. “Oh… right. Did you tell him?”

“I didn’t know if I could.”

“If you could?”

“If you’d, you know, want me to.”

She smiles. “I’m going to have to own up to it some time. Let the other women of the world know they’re safe.”

“Out of luck, you mean.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Guys?

I turn to Sam. “Sorry.” I glance back to Donna, who nods, then I look at Sam and blurt it out. “We got married.”

There’s silence for a second, and then “What?” 

“We got married,” I say, taking Donna’s hand and grinning.

He looks disbelieving at me. “You got married?”

“We did.” I look back at Donna. “He doesn’t seem to be grasping this.” 

“Who did you marry?”

My eyes widen and I look back at him. “Each other!”

********** 

The rest of the day goes similarly. At first I think it’s shock, but I come to realize that most people can’t believe Donna would consent to marry me. This comes as a rather harsh blow to my ego, which she enjoys immensely.

Mrs. Santos flew into town earlier today with Peter and Miranda, and they came to the office and attacked their dad with hugs. Mrs. Santos left the room for a minute while he showed the kids the office and asked how much they’d grown, and when she came back, Donna was with her and I knew she had accepted Mrs. Santos’ job offer. It was harder than I thought it would be now that Donna and I are married, but as she and Mrs. Santos shuffled the kids out a few minutes later, there was something about the way Donna bent down and told Miranda that her dress was pretty that made me smile and think about the future and what it might bring.

Politically, however, things are much better. The President-elect’s still going rogue, but I’m better able to handle it and him, and by mid afternoon, I convince him to appoint Miller to the cabinet over Swayne. We also choose a secretary of agriculture and hire Ed and Larry to be our legislative director and deputy legislative director. I don’t know which we hire for which position, but I doubt it matters much.

My biggest problem right now is getting Baker confirmed by the still republican house and senate. It seems that a good majority of these republicans who lost their seats are using their last two months in office to make my life difficult; probably as some sort of payback for the number of times I pissed them off over the last eight years. I’ve been working on this pretty much all day long and expect to be working on it pretty much every day for the next few weeks. 

 

I finish an unpleasant phone call with Senator Hafley, who has his own ideas about who should be nominated for the VP spot, just as my watch beeps, letting me know that it’s eight o’clock. I consider working for another hour or so, but I look down at the ring on my finger that reminds me of what I’ve committed my life to and what I haven’t. A small smile crosses my face and I stand up and throw a few things into my backpack. Then I go home.


	10. A Calming Presence

I could list 100 things that I love about my husband, but waking up next to him every morning is just about at the top of the list.

As soon as the alarm sounds, Josh grunts, blinks a couple of times, then slings his arm over my body. He has this new thing where at some point during the night, he throws his left leg over both of mine. It prohibits my movement, but there are worse things in life than being pinned down by Josh Lyman.

"Good morning," I greet him.

"Morning," he mumbles. He snakes his hand under the sheets and places his palm on my bare stomach. "My head hurts."

"Ibuprofen is on the night stand."

He rolls over and grabs the two pills, popping them into his mouth. "You're a goddess."

After I watched Josh down his fourth glass of champagne last night, I made a mental note to prepare for his slight hangover this morning. "There's Gatorade in the fridge."

He kisses me, then lays his head back on the pillow. "Fifteen more minutes."

"Ten."

"Deal." He closes his eyes.

Bargaining with Josh is much easier now that we're married.

I rub his temples and he moans. He'll be as good as new before we leave today.

********** 

As far as inaugurations go, last night was...magical. All of the people who were such a big part of my life growing up in politics were there. I danced with former President Bartlet. I did a shot of tequila with CJ and Sam. I toasted with Toby, who was in remarkably high spirits.

At one point during the first inaugural ball, I stood to the side and watched everyone. It's amazing to think that I was a part of this. That I contributed to American history even in the smallest of ways. I never thought I'd have this opportunity. But that, I reflect, is what makes this country so great. Just as I began thinking about my current life, Josh approached me from behind. It was almost like he could tell what I was thinking.

"Dance with me," he said.

I nodded and followed my husband to the dance floor.

We danced only once, but it was wonderful. Josh held me close, nuzzling my ear with his nose. He whispered that he loved me when the song ended. I told him I loved him right out loud. Josh smiled. He likes when I'm bold.

**********   
"Ok, time's up." I gently shove him.

"Yeah, yeah." He rolls out of bed.

I watch him walk into the bathroom in all of his naked glory. God, I love this man's ass.

He's not the only one who slept in the buff.

Last night, just like almost every night, I went to sleep wearing a full set of pajamas. While Josh doesn't seem to mind me getting into bed with them on, he certainly has issues with me keeping them on. Inevitably, my top is gone within five minutes and my bottoms are discarded mere seconds later. Lately I've been falling asleep with him rubbing his thumb across the sensitive underside of my breasts, and let me just say, it's one helluva way to drift off.

While Josh takes a shower, I make a pot of coffee and toast two bagels. If I can get him to eat at least half a bagel with light cream cheese before heading out, I consider it a success.

The living room isn't as messy as usual, but it's by no means immaculate. I pick up a few sections of the newspaper and toss them into the recycling bin. I remove a glass of water from the coffee table and rub the wet spot with a towel. It's probably going to leave a mark. It doesn't matter how many times I remind Josh to use a coaster, he still puts his glass on the cherry wood. Maybe he doesn't actually know what a coaster is. As I put the remote control on top of the TV, I notice a very familiar DVD case sitting in the entertainment center. It's the video of our wedding.

I smile.

I've watched the video four or five times, but it isn't something I think of popping into the DVD player at night. The memory of our wedding is still incredibly fresh in my mind. Josh, however, watches it often. Sometimes I'll catch him grinning at the TV. He likes rewinding the part when the breeze blew my dress up, exposing my thigh.

I hear the toaster pop.

"Smells like cinnamon sugar," Josh says, walking into the kitchen with a towel around his waist. "I thought you stopped buying these bagels."

I meet him next to the sink. "Today's a special day."

He wraps his arms around me. "It is."

I kiss him soundly on the mouth and run my hands up his stomach to his chest. Our kiss quickly escalates into a full-blown make out session. I'll never get tired of kissing this man.

Even after eight years of marriage.

"Daddy?"

We stop kissing, and Josh looks down. "Morning, buddy."

"Is it here yet?" Thomas rubs his eyes.

My five-year-old son is as impatient as his father. Except for the blond hair, he's also the spitting image of Josh. Ever since we told him that we were going to the beach, he's asked about it every day.

Josh releases me with one last kiss, then walks over to him. He lifts Thomas to eye-level and kisses his cheek. "It's here." 

Thomas claps and screams with glee. I can't help smiling.

A minute later, our daughter runs into the kitchen dressed in her new swimsuit. She may have slept in it. "Beach!" she yells.

Josh picks her up the same way he did Thomas, kissing her on the nose and depositing her on the counter. "Are you both packed?"

They yell their responses.

I make a mental note to double check their suitcases. Last time we traveled, I found Thomas' Fly & Discover Globe stuffed in his bag. Nora's bag contained a melted ice cream sandwich.

"You need to eat breakfast, and then we'll leave," I say.

All three of them nod.

"And sweetie?"

Josh turns his head in response, but it's actually Nora I'm speaking to.

"You have to pack your swimsuit. You can't wear it."

This earns me a major pout. I have no idea who she learned that from.

The sentiment isn't lost on Josh. He quickly steps beside our three-and-a-half-year-old daughter, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe she can wear it under her dress?"

Nora nods vigorously and flashes her dimples. "Please, mommy?"

How can I deny her that?

"Ok. As long as you eat."

The four of us eat bagels with cream cheese, strawberries, and yogurt. Josh drinks a bottle of Gatorade and a cup of coffee. I drink a glass of milk. Someone has to be the role model for these kids.

********** 

Traveling with two children plus Josh is not an easy feat. The last time we flew was six months ago to visit Josh's mom. That trip was accompanied by strollers and diapers. I'm happy to say we don't need either for this trip. Nora is incredibly self-sufficient and Thomas will be in kindergarten in September.

As we walk down the jet way, Nora holds one of my hands tightly while Thomas tugs on the other. He's holding his Oscar the Grouch stuffed animal, which he refuses to part with at any cost. I have my husband to thank for that.

Speaking of which, I cannot locate Josh. He went to the bookstore 20 minutes ago and never returned. So I board the plane with our children, hoping their father eventually makes it on board. I'd call him on his cell, but we have this rule about no cell phones or computers in Hawaii.

Once I get the children settled in our four middle seats on this Boeing 777, Josh shows up with a handful of books.

"Daddy, look!" Thomas holds up the safety information card. He's been fascinated by airplanes since he was two.

"I've got something you'll like even more," Josh responds, sitting on the opposite side so we have our kids sandwiched between us. 

Nora reaches for her father with her blankie in hand. "I want a book."

He pulls down the middle tray table and sets five books down. One is about airplanes, and two are by Daniel Manus Pinkwater, 'The Big Orange Splot' and 'Young Larry.' Nora is obsessed with 'At the Hotel Larry' by the same author. In fact, it's sitting on my lap right now. Josh bought two more books as well – a coloring book and 'Hawaii Government for Kids.'

"You bought a government book?" I raise my eyebrows.

This isn't the first political book he's purchased. Thomas isn't too keen on these books, but Nora seems fascinated.

"It has pictures," Josh explains in a high-pitched voice.

I shake my head. You can take the man out of politics, but you can't take the politics out of the man.

Once we're all buckled in, the pilot announces our departure. Nora holds my hand and Thomas gets on his knees to look out the window. 

Hawaii, here we come.

***  
Like their father, my children have no trouble sleeping on a plane. In fact, they sleep through the hour-long layover in Los Angeles. Nora is snoring in Josh's arms, and Thomas has his head on my lap. It isn't until we're an hour into the next flight that I'm able to get any rest.

As I drift off to sleep, I think about what our lives will be like now that we're not working on a campaign or in the White House. Josh and I have talked about it quite a bit. I think it'll be more difficult for him, but he hasn't wavered on his desire to take some time off. He'll do a little consulting, which probably means he'll work 40 hours a week as opposed to 80, but much of that work can be done from home. Josh insists upon watching his kids grow up.

That hasn't been an easy task for the past five years. We had to hire a nanny when Thomas was born. Camille would show up at 6:45 a.m. every morning and often ended up spending the night. After a year of having her sleep on the sofa a few times a month, we decided to buy a house. There was also the issue of wanting our son to have a back yard and neighborhood kids to play with. I was in Lisbon when Josh made the offer on the house, and he was in Brussels during the move. Camille all but lived with us until recently. She even has her own room.

Working in the Santos administration was vastly different from the Bartlet years. Part of it had to do with Peter and Miranda. The President and First Lady spent as much time with their children as possible, which I think served as a model for Josh and me. Unless it was absolutely necessary, we didn't work on weekends. Most of the time during the week, we'd get home before 8 p.m.

Still, that wasn't enough. When Nora was born, I decided to hand many of my responsibilities over to my deputy. I still worked a full week and traveled with the First Lady when asked, but I refused to spend another three years missing my kids' "firsts."

Starting today, I won't miss anything. I'm not going back to work. I'm going to be in the PTA and go to Mommy & Me classes with my kids. I'm going to teach Nora how to use her Easy Bake Oven and help Thomas build model airplanes. And I'm going to shower my husband with love. Not that there's been a lack of that at home. We're pretty good about making time for each other even when we're dead tired. Josh still surprises me in bed. He did this thing the other night with his big toe that made me scream to the point of waking our son. I'm not a fan of Thomas coming into our bedroom with "Is mommy ok?" and his father smirking like a mad man.

This vacation marks a new beginning. The other two times we've come to Hawaii have also been about beginnings. First, Josh and I were married on the island. Second, my daughter was conceived in Hawaii. Josh hasn't let me forget that one.

While we won't have much privacy this time around, I'm sure my husband will find a way to recreate a few choice moments with me during our stay at The Orchid.

********** 

After having slept for eight hours on the plane, my kids and their father are ready to go to the beach as soon as we get to the hotel. Josh made these reservations over a year ago, so we have the same room we've had the past two times. We walk in and a wave of nostalgia hits me hard. Tears of joy form in my eyes, but I don't let them fall. I simply look at Josh and smile.

He kisses me on the lips and whispers, "Love you."

The kids are so excited about the multitude of options on the property that they don't know what to do first. We take them to see the giant sea turtles on the beach, then we go swimming in the ocean.

I got about three hours of sleep last night, so after an hour of activity at the beach, I'm exhausted.

"You look beat," Josh says, applying sunscreen to my back. His hands dip into my bikini top more than once.

I yawn. "I didn't get much sleep on the plane."

"Take a nap. I'll build sand castles with the kids." He pulls a reclining beach chair closer to where we're set up.

"Are you sure? I'm worried about them being this close to the water."

"You don't think I can handle them?" He raises his eyebrows.

"You sometimes get distracted."

Just the other day, Nora was drawing a flower with a crayon on the countertop while Josh was trading baseball cards with Thomas.

He kisses me on the forehead. "I promise to keep an eye on them at all times. Besides, they're wearing floaties."

I smile. "Ok."

Josh squeezes my hand, then turns to face Nora and Thomas. "Who wants to build sand castles?"

The kids scream with delight.

If waking up next to Josh is one of my favorite things in life, then watching him interact with our children is at the very top of that list. He's incredibly good with them. He listens, he laughs, he disciplines them in a constructive yet firm way, and he genuinely enjoys whatever they do together.

I smile at the sight in front of me. Nora scoops buckets of sand and brings them to Thomas. He empties the buckets and shapes little domes to form the castle. Josh is on his hands and knees, digging a moat around the castle.

Who would've ever thought that we'd be here like this eight years ago? I am absolutely in love with my life. And there is no place I'd rather be than with my family where it all began. I get a little choked up when I think of how this all came to be. I wouldn't trade one moment, but I'll gladly spend the rest of my life being a mother and a wife. That's it. I don't need political agendas or state dinners. And I've done enough international travel to last a lifetime.

This right here is what it's all about.

I'm not sure how long I've been sleeping, but when I wake up to sounds of "Mommy," I open my eyes. Nora and Thomas have buried Josh up to his neck in the sand. They're laughing and pointing at their father.

"I'm stuck," he says.

This seems to get the kids riled up even more. Thomas is clapping and Nora is patting the sand down at Josh's feet.

"Daddy's stuck!" Thomas yells.

I stretch, then walk over to the burial site. "Hi, honey."

He grins up at me. "Could you, you know, help me out?"

I kind of like him trapped like this. "Nice work, kids."

"Donna!" he yells.

I bend down on my knees. "Daddy needs to say the magic word."

Nora attaches herself to my arm and Thomas, ever the affectionate son, plants a kiss on my shoulder. A minute passes, and then they run off to fill buckets with more sand.

I kiss Josh on the mouth. I had no intentions of making this some sort of steamy love scene, but this whole upside down thing is really turning me on. His lips are warm and wet, causing parts of my body to react the same way. When I moan, Josh breaks his arms free and wraps them around my neck.

"He escaped!" Thomas yells.

Nora runs over to us. "Don't let Daddy go!"

Josh starts laughing while his lips are still attached to mine. I can't help but laugh with him.

He releases me, then breaks completely out of the sand grave, saying, "Fee, fi, foe, fum..."

The children run away from him, squeeing with delight. 

He catches Nora first, and throws her over his right shoulder. When he finally gets Thomas, he holds him under his left arm. Josh walks into the ocean and deposits both kids into the water. I love that they can't get enough of their father.

I join them in the ocean, kissing Nora and Thomas on the cheek. I put my arms around Josh's waist and kiss him firmly on the mouth. When Thomas pulls us apart, begging his father to throw him high in the air, Josh smiles at me.

I love my husband's dimples.

Nora takes me by the hand and pulls me into deeper water. I spin her around and around until she laughs uncontrollably.

This is my world now filled with loads of laughter and tons of love. And I thank God for every single minute.


End file.
